


Blood and Bones

by westofmoon



Series: Blood and Bones au [2]
Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Adventure and Romance, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Character Deaths, Curses, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Soulmates, The Mummy AU, and a heap of sexual tension, have a dash of mutual pining, the mummy returns au, tw panic attacks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2020-07-19 05:11:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 58,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19968571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westofmoon/pseuds/westofmoon
Summary: When Rowan Whitethorn convinces Erilea's most notorious treasure hunter, Aelin Galathynius, to help him find an ancient book, they accidentally awaken a long-slumbering evil and uncover secrets about the past that history would rather have kept hidden.





	1. prologue

Aelin Galathynius had been to many a ruin and temple in the nine years she had been a treasure hunter, but none of them compared to the ancient fortress through which she now walked. The ruins of a palace, if the information her employer had given her was accurate, now buried and crumbling beneath nearly three thousand years of sandstorms and drifts, along with the city that had surrounded it.

From the outside, there was little to discern this place from any of the other ruined cities that lay scattered about the Deserted Lands, but from the inside, it was certainly far grander and more sprawling.

Her boots crunched on the sand and black rocks that littered the floor, the sound echoing down the long corridor. The light from her torch revealed walls that were likely once as white as snow but now were dingy with dust and age. Cobwebs dangled from the ceiling high above, reminding her of the mossy trees in the Bogdano Jungle.

The flame of the torch shuddered, as if in a sudden breeze, and Aelin stopped short. Her eyes scanned the hall around her. The passage had been doorless so far, the only ornamentation a few half rotted tapestries and curtains. Much like the drape hanging on the wall to her right. 

Glancing curiously between the drape and her torch, Aelin took a few slow steps back. The torch flickered again. Eyeing the fabric more closely, she noticed it seemed to sway ever-so-slightly, and as she took a step closer she realized what she had dismissed as a shadow on the wall was actually an opening behind the curtain. 

Aelin smiled to herself and pulled the surprisingly heavy material aside, finding a small alcove in the wall. It was empty like the rest of the hall, but the wall to the left had a large crack running up from the floor, the torchlight spilled through to an open space beyond. 

The crevice was just big enough for a person to squeeze through, and upon closer inspection, she found the edges were far too smooth to have occurred naturally. Someone had deliberately made this, and had likely hung that tapestry to keep anyone from noticing. 

Aelin had to admit it was clever, if someone were to simply glance in the alcove, they would have dismissed the break given how well it blended in with shadows of the heavy curtain. She kneeled down and peered through the narrow opening. 

The room looked to be rather spacious, but it was so dark she couldn’t see very far. A thin shaft of light filtered down from the ceiling, reflecting off of something shiny, and she saw the silhouette of some object standing in what she assumed to be the center of the room. 

She grabbed a handful of sandy pebbles off the floor by her feet and tossed them onto the stones just beyond the opening, testing to see if any of them triggered a trap or pitfall. When nothing happened, Aelin laid her torch just inside the room and crawled through the small gap. 

It was a hall, not as grand as some of the others she had found here, but still a decent size. A solitary ray of sunlight poured into the room, no doubt through some clever mirror trick in the levels above. It reflected off another mirror attached to the floor but it wasn’t enough to reach the corners of the room, leaving them shrouded in darkness. The outline she had seen turned out to be a statue standing in the center of the room, but she was still to far away to make out exactly what it was.

She performed a careful sweep around the room checking for anything amiss and discovered the only other entrance to the room was blocked with fallen debris, likely the reason for the hole in the back wall. The walls of this room were darker, a deep blue color, and decorated with carvings and mosaics mostly depicting the night sky, moons and clouds and stars. 

Aelin couldn’t help but feel a little in awe of the detail that had been put into the various scenes. They were beautiful. She paused by one particular mosaic depicting the various phases of the moon and lifted her torch for a better look. 

It was then she noticed that the stars carved into the wall seemed to gleam dimly beneath the layer of dust coating them. Aelin swiped a finger through the grime coating one and found a large gemstone embedded in it’s center. Aelin blinked in surprise and did the same to another star, finding yet another gem. 

How had no one stolen these by now? If every star had one… Her eyes drifted over the wall again. There had to be at least a hundred of them about the hall. A small fortune. 

She wedged her torch between two stones on the floor and drew a small knife from a sheath at her thigh. Very carefully, so as not to damage it, she pried one of the gemstones out. When it popped free, she rolled it around in her palm. It sparkled brilliantly in the faint light of the torch, and Aelin was fairly certain it was a diamond. With a shrug, she pocketed it and set about collecting a few more. 

After freeing five more gems from their places on the wall, Aelin took a step back to look for any more jeweled stars close by. That was when one of the moons in the mosaic caught her eye. The circular tile depicting a waning gibbous moon was ever-so-slightly off kilter compared to the other pieces, the mortar around its edges not quite the same shade. 

They were only small differences, so slight most people would never have noticed them, especially not in this faint of light. But as a treasure hunter trained by Arobynn Hamel, she had been taught to spot such minute details. To look for them, and know what they entailed. 

Stepping closet to the wall, Aelin placed her ear next to the tile and tapped it with the handle of her knife. A hollow sound echoed behind it. Aelin bit her lip as she chipped away at the mortar between the stones with her knife, then easily pried the moon tile out of the wall with the blade. There was a small niche behind it, just as she had suspected.

Lifting her torch to peer inside, she found a tiny bundle of white cloth. “Hello there,” she murmured, removing it from the hole with a pleased smirk. 

She gingerly unwrapped the coarse material and then blinked in surprise. 

A necklace? The pendant was a series of overlapping circles with a blue stone of some kind in the center. She couldn’t tell much about it in the low light, so she wrapped it back up and stuffed it into the pocket with the diamonds. Then she returned the tile to its spot on the wall, gently tapping the edges with her knife to wedge it back in place. 

And then Aelin made her over to the statue at the center of the room. It was a lovely thing, depicting some long forgotten goddess or queen in remarkably detail, her elegant figure frozen mid step, arms outstretched before her and head tilted back with her hair frozen as if in a breeze. 

Aelin dropped her gaze from the work of art and studied at the stones at the statue’s base. Her employer, Mr. Dorian, had said the book that he sought was believed to have been hidden at the base of a statue somewhere within these ruins. 

But this figure had no base, it was instead affixed to the floor. 

Kneeling, Aelin examined every stone around the figure’s feet. To the front, the back and either side. Nothing stood out or seemed out of place. There were no markings or symbols etched into any of the stones, there were no unusual grooves between them. She even pushed and prodded the edges of the stones for any sign one of them might be loose or removable.

Not this statue then. Aelin let out a heavy sigh and stood, pursing her lips. It was going to take forever to find that book.

She glanced back up at the statue’s face then, and suddenly felt very uneasy. A chill seemed to go through the room. 

The eyes… She hadn’t noticed before, but the eyes were so lifelike, as if the woman were watching her, an almost haughty look about her. 

A shiver went down Aelin’s spine, and something told her that this was not a benevolent or good woman. She had heard the stories about this place, after all.

Every nerve in her body felt on edge, and she suddenly felt like she wasn’t alone in the room. Like something cold and dark was slithering around in the corners of this place, in the darkness, watching and waiting to spring. 

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end and her heart began to beat faster, muscles tensing with the overwhelming urge to run, to get far away as fast as she could. 

Aelin heeded that sense and made her way towards the exit, and it was only thanks to years of training that she didn’t break into a sprint. 

The anxious feeling didn’t lessen, not until she was back outside of the ruins, beneath the sweltering desert sun that the chill loosened its hold on her bones.

Judging by that sun, it was around noon. Most of the diggers were milling about, preparing a meager lunch. She saw Cairn speaking with one of their desert guides. 

Aelin nodded to a few of the men who acknowledged her as she walked through camp and ducked into her own tent. Thankfully, someone had already left a plate of food for her and she trudged over to the low table in the center of her tent and dropped onto the floor with a heavy sigh. 

This job was going to take a while. Already, they had been here for over a week and had found nothing but a few trinkets. And they had yet to cover even a third of the winding halls and tunnels. 

As she ate, Aelin spread the items she had found out on the table to further examine them in a better light. She plucked one of the round gems from the pile and rolled it between her fingers, watching as it caught the light and glittered. Yes those were indeed diamonds, each as big as her thumbnail and of exceptional quality. They would fetch a hefty sum on the markets in Rifthold. Or perhaps she would get her favorite jeweler to make her a nice piece with them; maybe a necklace or pair of earrings. She dropped them onto the scrap of cloth she had spread out on the table and picked up the other item she had found. 

The necklace was incredibly old, the pendant one large golden ring with two smaller overlapping rings inside, forming the shape of an eye with a large blue gem in its center, like an iris. A line cut down through the middle of the pendany and it had two little horn-like adornments at the top where it attached to the chain.

It wasn’t a particularly stunning piece of jewelry, but given that someone had gone to such lengths to hide it in the first place, it had to be valuable. And, oddly enough, it seemed vaguely familiar.

Aelin pursed her lips, wondering if she should report finding the necklace or not. Mr. Dorian hadn’t mentioned anything other than that book, and had said any treasure they found they could keep for themselves. She took another bite and slowly chewed as she thought it over.

With a sigh, she sat the necklace aside and pulled the map of the area she had been given her closer to examine it once more. Her eyes scanned the symbols marking the various ruins scattered about the desert, fingers absently twirling the end of her braid. It was then that her eyes caught on one strange mark in particular, the one marking their exact location. She peered down at that small symbol of circles and then at the necklace lying on the table. They were the same. 

Well, now she knew why it had seemed familiar. And any lingering doubts she had about their party possibly being in the wrong location vanished. 

A sudden shout rang out from somewhere across the camp, capturing Aelin’s attention. She snatched the cloth bundle and map off the table and shoved them into her jacket pocket as she went to peer outside. 

One of the desert guides was stumbling through the center of camp, yelling frantically in his native tongue. His words cut off into a choked gurgle that she heard even from her tent as an arrow pierced his throat from behind. 

Before he had even hit the sand, more screams of pain and fear began to spread through the camp, followed by clangs and gunshots and more shouting. 

Aelin ducked back inside and rushed to her weapons bag. She grabbed several knives, stuffing them into her belt and boots, and slung her holster with her pistols over her shoulders. When she reemerged from the tent a few seconds later, packing a revolver in each hand, the camp was in absolute chaos. 

People were screaming, horses were running free, tents were ablaze. Men, her men, were being cut down like stalks of wheat by a horde of people on horseback. They wore scarves over their mouths, concealing their faces, and loose fitting clothing in shades of beige and tan and grey and black. Each bore a sword or bow or other ancient weapons. 

Aelin ran through the camp firing at the attackers as they rode by but it was to no avail. For every one she gunned down another took their place. 

A few of the hired men of her group were attempting to put up a fight against the small host, but most were fleeing through the ruins, desperate to escape. She doubted any of them had ever been trained for combat, to defend themselves in a situation such as this. This was going to be a massacre. 

In a matter of minutes, she was out of bullets, the hammers of her pistols clicking emptily. Just as she was about to toss them aside, a man with a large build came at her, a long knife in one of his hands. He lunged for her, blade flashing. Aelin nimbly dodged, slipping around his side. Before he had time to recover, she flipped the gun around in her hand and brought the butt of it down on the back of his head. The man went sprawling into the sand, unconscious. Aelin turned away from his prone form and froze. 

Not thirty feet away, another rider sat atop a great black horse, unmoving and unarmed amongst the flurry of activity. They were dressed the same as the others, a loose pants and tunic in black. But the scarf they wore to cover their face was red. It fluttered about them like blood on the wind, like the blood that stained the sands at their feet. Even from the distance, Aelin could see their eyes, the color of burnt gold. Unnerving as they bore into hers.

For a heartbeat, they just stared each other down. Aelin’s fury at the heedless slaughter rising, her fingers itching to take her knife and drive it right between those eyes. As if reading the thought, the rider’s eyes seemed to light up with a challenge, their head tilting slightly.

Then they dug their heels into the horse’s flank, and the horse leaped forward into a charge. 

And Aelin took off running into the ruins, praying she didn’t lose her footing on the shifting sand or on a piece of rubble. If she was going to stand a chance, she had to find a place to where she could take a second to regroup and get the upper hand on this bastard. 

She dove over a broken bit of stone jutting out of the sand, landing on her feet as she came out of a roll and kept on running, darting between pillars. Behind her, she heard a heavy thump and a horse snort as they too leapt over the broken wall in their pursuit. 

Faster, faster she ran, but the horse and rider were gaining, so close now she could practically feel the horses every exhale against her back. Aelin twisted right, intending to dart in another direct to throw them off their pursuit but something, or more accurately someone, crashed into her back, sending her to the ground. Sand sprayed as they rolled and Aelin scrunched up her eyes to keep from being blinded by it. 

Aelin managed to wriggle free of her attacker’s grasp, but as she threw off their hold, something sharp raked across the side of her neck. She rolled away, rising into a crouch and drew two daggers from her belt, ignoring the burning pain and warmth trickling down her skin to soak her shirt and jacket. They had sliced her somehow. 

Her opponent sprung to their feet, nimble as a cat and withdrew two wicked looking blades as well. Quick as a asp they lunged, going for Aelin’s abdomen in a move that would gut her, but Aelin brought her knives up, deflecting each swipe. Before they had time to recover from the attack, she spun around and landed a kick to their side. 

They took several staggering steps and turned, those golden eyes flashing dangerously as they glared at her. Aelin just flipped one of her daggers into a backhanded grip and grinned lazily. She could have sworn she heard them growl.

And they clashed again. It was like a dance, flirting with death as they moved across the sand, blades missing skin by a hairsbreadth. 

Finally Aelin saw an opening and aimed two quick blows and a kick to their wrists, forcing them to drop their knives. But before Aelin could get both feet back on the ground, her opponent slipped one of their own around Aelin’s other ankle, pulling it out from under her. Aelin fell back, tripping over a piece of rubble and went tumbling down a deep sand drift. 

By some miracle, Aelin managed to keep her hold on both of her knives and avoid stabbing herself with either of them on the way down the dune. She quickly pushed herself up and onto her feet, her head spinning, and saw the golden-eyed figure was following her, taking sliding steps down the sand as if they were simply walking down a flight of stairs. 

Aelin backed away, readying herself for their next assault. But they didn’t drawn another weapon, instead they flexed their fingers and light glinted at their fingertips with the motion. And she saw it then. Metal, covering the backs of their gloves and ending in sharp pointed tips at the ends of their fingers. Clawed iron armor.

Now she knew how they had cut her. 

Less than a heartbeat later, those claws were lashing for her throat, and Aelin flung up her knives, catching the tips on either blade. If she had been a second slower, she would have severed the fingers from their hands.

Her opponent recoiled then, as if realizing the same thing, but they darted forward again, feinting right and throwing out their left leg, aiming a kick for Aelin’s hip. She dodge and aimed a swing of her own for their throat. Knives clashed with iron claws, over and over, as they aimed for her face, her neck, her stomach. Aelin blocked or evaded each blow and responded with an attack of her own. 

Aelin saw another opening and attacked with both blades. But her foe anticipated the move and slipped inside the blow, grabbing Aelin’s wrists with either hand. Those iron nails dug into her left forearm and squeezed while the other hand gripped Aelin’s wrist and slammed it against a nearby bit of ruin repeatedly until she was forced to leg go of both her daggers. 

With a snarl, Aelin drove her knee up into their gut, and they released her, letting out a grunt that sounded distinctly female. Aelin didn’t let her surprise slow her down, and swept out a leg before they could recover, sending them tripping back into a pillar. She withdrew a long knife from the back of her belt and gripped it with both hands above her head, plunging it home towards the woman’s heart. 

Golden eyes widened and she dove out of the way, and Aelin’s knife sank into the weather-worn crumbling stone, the blade imbedded so deep she couldn’t remove it quickly enough. Aelin hissed a curse and ducked to avoid another swipe of those claws towards for her face, forced to abandon her knife. As Aelin dodged around the pillar, she saw that those claws had left gouges across the rock below her knife. 

As Aelin ran, an idea took form, and her eyes quickly scanned the ruins around her, searching. But then something gripped the end of her long braid and yanked, so hard her hair came free. Aelin hissed at the pain in her scalp, and hissed again as a second later a clawed hand gripped her upper arm, those sharp tips piercing through the fabric of her jacket and shirt and into the flesh beneath, and swung her around into a wall. Aelin barely dodged the next blow she aimed at her stomach and sent a blind fist flying for the woman’s face. It connected with her jaw and sent her staggering back. 

The woman blinked in shock, as if in disbelief that Aelin had struck her. And Aelin waited, her back to the wall, brushing her fingers over the crumbling stone. Those burnt gold eyes rose to hers and they held a promise of death. 

Wait. 

Wait. 

Aelin’s lips twitched into a smirk.

A snarl rippled from between the woman’s lips and she leapt, both clawed hands aimed for Aelin‘s throat. 

And Aelin dove to the side, rolling away as her cry of anger became one of alarm, and the sound of metal on rock rang out behind her.

Aelin landed on her knees, hair spilling over her shoulders and in front of her face as she pushed herself to her feet and glanced behind her. The tips of the woman’s clawed gloves had sunk into the crumbly stone and she was struggling to yank them free. Just as Aelin had been counting on. 

That momentary delay was all the chance Aelin needed as she hauled ass, ducking and dodging other riders, leaping over partially buried ruins and bodies both friend and foe. Mostly they were friend.

But then she heard the sound of heavy footfalls and the labored panting of a horse in full gallop, once again closing in behind her. Aelin risked another glimpse over her shoulder and saw an archer on horse back was chasing her down, already aiming an arrow for her unprotected back. 

Aelin shifted to the right and ducked, the arrow whizzing by her ear and pinging off a bit of rock. She turned a corner and pushed her legs to move faster, weaving between pillars and around corners as she made her way through the labyrinth of ruins. Anything to lose them.

Fighting her way out was no longer an option. Now it was about doing whatever it took to survive. 

She was approaching the camp once more when she saw a familiar head of light brown hair. Cairn. He was sneaking towards one of the sealable openings leading down into the ruins beneath the sand. 

Aelin called out for him to run. 

Cairn looked back at the sound of her voice and his pale blue eyes widened as he beheld the people giving chase, and he broke into a sprint. He darted through the entrance to the tunnel and began to push the door closed behind him. 

A strangled cry escaped her as she realized what was happening. That he was going to shut her out and leave her to these people. He was going to leave her to die. 

No. She was only a few feet away, he wouldn‘t.

But he did. The door slammed in her face and Aelin crashed into it. She beat her fists against the door, pleading for him to open the door, to let her in. Her knuckles split with the force of each hit. But there was no sound from the other side, and the door didn’t budge. 

That rutting weasel.

And then the horses were there, coming to a halt behind her. 

Aelin went still, trying to calm her racing heart. It felt as if it would beat right out of her chest, from exertion, from fear. This was it. This was how she was going to die. Here in the middle of the desert, so far from home, and neither Aedion or Lysandra or Elide would ever know what had happened to her. Her eyes stung and she swallowed the sob that threatened to push it’s way past her lips. 

She took a few deep breaths, tense and waiting, but the rider behind her made no move to strike. As if they too were waiting. Or toying with her, like a cat with a mouse. The thought steeled her, and sent a fresh wave of anger and resolve through her body. She would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her cry, would not spend her last few moments in tears, nor would she beg them for her life or show one ounce of weakness. 

She had spent the past nine years of her life walking hand in hand with danger and death as she flitted from place to place, job to job, temple to ruin. Death had been her constant companion these long years. She would not be afraid of him now.

A clam settled in her bones, her muscles relaxing. And with one more deep breath, Aelin turned to face her fate.

There were two riders this time, still atop their horses just a few meters away. One with dark eyes and thick dark brows, but she met the black and gold-flecked gaze of the archer, knowing that was where her death would come. 

Aelin held the archer’s gaze, willing fire into her veins and lifted her chin defiantly.

The archer’s eyes flashed with something that looked an awful lot like respect. And then they lifted their bow and drew back the string.

But that arrow never flew. 

The archer’s eyes widened with shock and they lowered their bow. The other rider and their horse shifted uneasily, their horse seemingly becoming skittish. The two riders shared a quick glance before looking to her again, a look of awe and disbelief in their eyes. And then they both wheeled their horse around, the archer took off at a gallop, vanishing around the corner of a ruin. 

But the dark eyed rider paused for a moment, giving Aelin one final strange look before barking a word in some language Aelin did not recognize and then they too left. 

Aelin blinked in utter confusion as every rider in the area turned and fled. Every single one simply vanished. If it weren’t for the bodies strewn across the sand, and the smoldering remains of the camp, one would have never known they had ever been there in the first place. She just stood there, several long minutes after they had all gone, too stunned to move.

She was still staring when a chill skittered down her spine. Unease crept over her, the same feeling she had had earlier in the hall below, as she had gazed into the life-like eyes of that statue. It was like something was watching her. Immediately her nerves were on edge, her heart began pounding against her ribcage. 

It was just like before, in that dark hall, like something cold and ancient and cruel lingered in darkness just beyond the edge of her vision. Something dark, a shadowy black mist creeping up behind her, reaching for her. Closer and closer, a hand about to grasp her shoulder… 

Something brushed against her hair and Aelin lurched forward, stumbling in her haste as she spun around to look behind her, eyes wild as she drew one of her knives from her boot. 

But there was nothing there. There was no darkness behind her, no shadow or hand reaching. Just sunlight and stone and the door that Cairn had slammed in her face. 

She had to get out of here, there was something wrong about this place, and she wanted out. And there was the chance those people could changed their mind and come back to finish her off. Maybe they would find Cairn and put an end to him. 

Aelin stumbled through the camp, trying not to let her eyes linger on the bodies of her men, stopping only once to pick up a long knife laying in the sand next to the hand of one of the felled riders. Nothing was left, the tents were nothing but a few smoldering husks, including her own. All of the supplies they had brought with them, the food, the water, the horses. What weapons and clothing she had with were destroyed or ashes now. 

Everything, all of it was gone. And she was alone.

She didn’t let herself think about it, about the death behind her, or that creeping darkness. About how there was no way in Hella’s realm she could make it across this desert alive as she broke through the edge of the ruins and into the open sands surrounding them, the midday sun beating down on her as she headed northeast, toward Yurpa or one of the other small trading villages along the coast and riverlands. She didn't think about how all of those villages were still several days travel away. She didn’t let herself think how unlikely it would be that she might come across a caravan or a trader along the way. And she didn’t let herself think about how later, when she was starving and dying of thirst, she would likely be wishing that archer had finished her off after all. 

All she let herself think, as she made her way across the sands beneath the sweltering desert sun, was that she hoped she never set eyes on this place again. 

~*~*~

Atop a high wall of crumbling rock that had once been a turret on the ancient castle buried beneath the sands, a golden-eyed woman watched as a figure staggered across the dunes. Their long golden hair billowed behind them like a shining beacon in afternoon sun. 

She couldn’t help but feel a hint of respect for the young woman, at her resourcefulness and her skill in battle. The girl fought with a passion and fire that she had seldom seen. She would have made a fine member of their ranks, The Order, defending these ruins and ensuring the darkness that slept below did not awaken again.

The sound of boots scraping on stone alerted her to the two people approaching to her left but she didn’t bother to look behind, already knowing who they were. Her second and third in command. 

“You did not end her.” Not a question. She felt them shift next to her and when neither responded immediately, she finally turned her gaze to the two of them. They were looking at each other, as if unsure of what they had to say. “What,” she demanded.

Gold-flecked black eyes met hers, and her second, her cousin, spoke, “She bore the mark on her brow. It… glowed.”

Her own eyes widened in disbelief and she glanced to the shorter figure. Her third nodded, dark eyes solemn and serious, leaving no room for doubt. Slowly, curiously, she turned back to the open desert, finding that golden banner of hair shrinking in the distance. 

After a moment she finally said, “Release a horse. Rations and water in the saddle bags.” They both nodded and her third left to carry out the order. Quietly, more to herself than anyone, she added, “She will need to make it out of the desert alive.”


	2. The Librarian

_around one month later_

_Welch. Whelan_. Rowan paused to push his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose and tilted his head to look at the name on the next book. _Wilde_. With barely a glance, he found the spot where the book belonged and slid it back into place. He looked down at the last book he had to return and nearly groaned. _Varela_. Someone -Fenrys, most likely- had mixed it in with the wrong stack.

With a roll of his eyes, he turned and looked over his shoulder at the shelf behind him, scanning the spines until he saw the spot where the book he held would go. Arching a brown, he flicked his gaze down at the ladder he was standing on and then to either end of the empty aisle.

Rowan’s lips twitched into a small grin. He tucked the book beneath his right arm and got a firm grip the ladder rungs. And then he lurched backward, the aged wood giving a creak of protest as he yanked the ladder away from the shelf.

His back was on a collision course with the opposite shelf, but mid-arc Rowan shifted his weight so that the ladder spun and he was instead facing the shelf for which he was aiming. A split second before he crashed against it, he threw out his left hand to halt his fall, easily catching the edge of the shelf and easing the ladder to rest against it. 

Rowan’s eyes flitted across the books once more, finding where _Varela_ belonged, and returned it to its spot. “There.”

“Rowan?” a slightly raspy female voice called from several rows back.

He startled. “Just a minute, Glennis!” Rowan quickly shimmied down the ladder and made his way towards her office. Bbefore he reached the doorway, she appeared.

Glennis studied him as he approached, her clear blue eyes narrowed but alight with the mischief of someone much younger. “If you are finished performing acrobatics amongst the shelves, Mr. Whitethorn,” he grinned guiltily, “I was wondering if you could return a few books for me? Bronwen wasn’t too please when she caught me scaling the shelves myself earlier, said I could fall and break a hip. Ha!”

Rowan chuckled lightly. Despite her age, Glennis was anything but frail. But Rowan nodded anyway, “Of course I will." 

Out of the corner of his eye, Rowan saw a flash of gold appear from some nearby shelves. Aedion, no doubt coming to see what the hushed talking was about.

“There’s a good lad,” Glennis murmured affectionately, reaching up to pat his cheek and he ducked slightly so she could reach. Aedion snorted softly and Rowan looked up to see his friend pat his own self on the jaw teasingly. Glennis didn’t seem to notice Aedion, and turned back into her office, “I’m going to head out, then. You and Aedion can close up, yes?”

“Yes,” Rowan answered, scowling towards Aedion. He gave him a rude gesture before turning to follow Glennis and heard the blond snickering after him. 

Aedion and Fenrys both loved to tease Rowan about how fond Glennis was of him. She had been something of a surrogate grandmother to him for years, and a good friend to Rowan’s late parents. They had known each other since his family had first arrived in Rifthold nearly twenty years ago, when Rowan had still been just a child, and she had often watched him while his parents were away on their expeditions. And over the past ten years since his parents had been gone, she had kept an eye on him, making sure he was taking care of himself. She even gave him this job at the Adarlan Historical Library after he had finished his schooling.

Rowan collected the books off Glennis’s desk, loading them onto a cart while she donned her coat and scarf. With one final goodbye, she left, and it was only Rowan and Aedion in the library. 

While Rowan set about returning the books to their proper shelves, Aedion began the task of snuffing out the lamps in the other parts of the building, locking up and putting away any materials patrons had left laying around before returning to help Rowan with the other books. 

This section housed older books and saw very few visitors, and the dust Rowan disturbed tickled his nose and threatened to send him into a fit of sneezing.

Just as he was placing the last book on the shelf, a loud rattling noise echoed down the aisle. 

Rowan nearly sent the ladder tumbling as he twisted to search for the source of the noise. He grabbed the shelf to steady himself, and his elbow connected with the books behind him, knocking them over. “Shit,” Rowan spun back around, trying to stop them, but he was too slow and the entire row of books fell in a chain reaction. When the last book in the row fell over, another smaller book plummeted off the shelf to the hardwood floor below, landing with a loud smack. 

Rowan winced, praying that it wasn’t damaged. He quickly set about righting all the books and then climbed down to check on the one on the floor. As he picked it up, he realized it wasn’t actually book. It was a journal. And not one that belonged to the library. 

It didn’t seem to be a very old either, not like the other books and journals in this place. Rowan’s brow furrowed in confusion as he examined it, lips twisting into a half frown.

Something about it was… strangely familiar. Maybe it belonged to Glennis and had been misplaced when one of them was returning books to the shelves. 

The stay that secured the journal shut was untied, and a few loose papers were poking out of the pages. Rowan began stuffing them back inside the book but one slipped free and fluttered to the floor. He picked it up but as he went to place it back inside the pages, his eyes caught the writing on the note.

And his heart nearly stopped in his chest. 

He recognized that handwriting. It was handwriting he knew by heart and would never, could never, forget. 

Rowan could only stare numbly, and the world seemed to go silent, the only sound the unsteady pounding of his heart, roaring in his ears as he flipped open the journal and his eyes began to pour over the pages inside. Page after page. Filled with that same handwriting. 

The elegant script of his mother.

Each word was written in the Old Language, the language of their homeland across the sea and the place where he had been born. Occasionally he saw a passage written in his father’s scrawl as well. 

Hardly believing what he was seeing, Rowan flipped back to the front to look at the inside cover. There in the bottom corner, a little hawk in flight was stamped into the leather. The Whitethorn family insignia. And next to it, his parents names. _Ronan Whitethorn. Gwyneira Whitethorn._

That was why it had seemed familiar at first glance. It was like the dozens of other journals that had belonged to his parents, ones they had left to him, chronicling their various expeditions and research at ruins across Erilea and Wendlyn. Rowan had barely had the heart to even look at them over the years. It still hurt too much. 

But how had one of them ended up here of all places? On a shelf full of old botany books. He flipped through the pages again, too many questions racing through his head. But then his eyes snagged on a few words. 

_Desert. Wyrdmarks. Myrkur._

Rowan went still. 

He had known his parents were searching for the fabled city of Myrkur. It was part of the reason they had come to Erilea in the first place, to search for the Book of Wyrd, an ancient tome of spells and curses written entirely in Wyrdmarks, supposedly dating back millennia to the time when magic was said to have still existed in the world. It was rumored to have been hidden in the ruins of that city, somewhere in the sandy expanse of the Deserted Lands. But any mention of their exploits to find the city had been conspicuously absent when he had actually mustered the nerve to go through their journals. But if it had been here the whole time… 

Rowan’s brows furrowed, in frustration, in confusion. Why-

But then he heard that noise again. The rattling. It was lower this time, but it was followed by a soft creaking and then a low thump.

He slowly eased down the aisle and peered around the end of the shelf, looking towards the direction the sound had come from. Glennis’s office. “Aedion?” Rowan asked quietly. 

“What?” The reply came from just a few rows away, in the opposite direction. 

Not Aedion then. Rowan cursed under his breath and murmured, “I heard something.”

“Eh, it was probably the dumb cat,” Aedion said dismissively. His words were punctuated by an angry hiss, and Aedion let out a yelp. A second later a dark blur sped past Rowan’s feet and disappeared into the shadows beyond the shelves. Aedion appeared, rubbing his ear and muttering a string of profanities under his breath. 

Or not, apparently. Rowan swallowed. His nerves were on edge as he carefully crept towards the open office door and peered inside the dark room. Moonlight was peeking through the curtains, faintly illuminating the space. In the dim light, Rowan could see the shapes of the various objects and furniture, but nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. 

He was just about to dismiss the noise as his imagination, when something shifted next to him. A dark shape, nearly his size, moved towards him and on reflex Rowan drew back his left arm and swung. His fist collided with what he was fairly certain was someone’s jaw.

The sound of outrage and pain that burst from the unidentified figure, however, was very familiar and Rowan groaned in irritation, even as his heart was still threatening to burst out of his chest. 

“Mother’s tits, Rowan!” Fenrys barked as he hit the floor with a thud. The reverberation from the landing jarred the fireplace poker out of its rack, and Fenrys let out another pained yelp as it landed atop him.

Hurried footsteps approached from behind and a heartbeat later, Aedion was at Rowan’s shoulder, laughing as he lifted a lamp. “What did you do now, Moonbeam?” 

Fenrys was sprawled on the floor, rubbing his chin where Rowan had hit him, glaring at the fireplace poker as he gripped it in his other fist. 

Rowan offered him a hand, hauling Fen to his feet. “Next time use the door like a normal person and maybe I won’t punch you,” he huffed with a laugh.

Fen made a face, “The doors were already locked, you bastard. I guess the old bird already flew the coop for the night?”

“How did you get in then?” Aedion asked. 

Fenrys waved a hand dismissively in front of Rowan’s scowling face, and snorted, “Obviously, I came in through the window. This was the only one I could unlock from outside. I tried the ones in the hall and the back room.” And then his dark eyes gleamed with excitement, “I have something to show you!”

Rowan huffed a laugh. Honestly, he didn’t know why he was even surprised. Fen was always doing something like this. He didn’t even work at the library, just moseyed about most days or showed up at strange times, usually with some useless piece of junk or another he had found in the Shadow Market, wanting Glennis to tell him if it had any value. Of course he would run straight here if he found something new. 

“Couldn’t it have waited until morning?” Rowan sighed. He crossed his arms and realized he was still holding that journal. But his attention was quickly recaptured by Fenrys. 

“No! Look at this!” He declared, lifting a hand before them. A golden object fell from his upraised hand, dangling at the end of a long chain. A pendant. It was a simple thing, two overlapping circles inside a larger one and a round blue stone in the center giving it an appearance resembling an eye. Rowan’s brows rose.

“A necklace?” Aedion asked unimpressed. 

“Not just any necklace. Don’t either of you recognize it?” Fenrys demanded in disbelief. When neither Rowan nor Aedion responded, Fen sighed dramatically. “It’s the symbol we found in that book! The one that had that passage about Myrkur. You know, the legendary lost City of Darkness?” 

Rowan stiffened as he realized Fen was right. He glanced down at the journal in his hand as a strange, uneasy sensation washed through him. How odd that he just so happened to find his parents’ journal on Myrkur at the very same moment Fenrys turns up with this necklace. 

Aedion scoffed, “That fairy tale again?” He had never believed the city had actually existed.

“That’s not all I have!” Fenrys whipped out a square of parchment, various symbols and markings flashing as he unfolded it. When Fen finally held it still, Rowan’s eyes raked over it. It was a map.

His unease only grew. 

“Is that what I think it is?” Aedion asked, sounding awed.

Fenrys grinned widely, “Yes! It’s a map to the ruins!”

Dazed and unable to speak, Rowan just stood there as Aedion demanded, “Where the hell did you get that?”

“Off some drunk in a tavern,” he answered unashamed, a rather pleased grin splitting his face. “I was visiting Con in the Shadow Market and…”

Rowan stopped hearing his friends words. The Shadow Market. That explained a lot of things. The place was little more than a warren for crooks and thieves and mercenaries. People went there looking for trouble, or to carry out business transactions they preferred to keep under the table. Fenrys’ twin brother, Connall, was a regular in the fighting pits there, and had made quite a name for himself.

“So what you’re really saying is you stole it,” Aedion clarified.

Fen squawked in offence, muttering, but then he glanced at Rowan and he perked up. “What’s wrong, Whitethorn? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Rowan blinked, his breath becoming shallow. He looked at Fenrys, and then at Aedion before glancing down at the journal in his hands. “I found this just now,” he said hesitantly. “It’s… my parents’ journal. About their research on Myrkur.” 

~*~

It was long past time for the library to be locked up for the evening, so they extinguished all the remaining lamps and lanterns and retreated to Glennis’s office, drawing the curtains and lighting a few candles to see by as the three of them sat around her desk. 

Rowan stared at the large potted plat near the window. A pair of cat’s eyes stared back from amidst the leaves and flowers, glowing faintly in the dim light. Abraxos had an unusual fascination with flowers, and typically he could be found hiding there -when he wasn’t terrorizing Aedion or Fenrys. Rowan had the distinct impression he was listening to every word they said for how intently he watched them. 

The cat shifted his head, as if in confirmation of the thought, his eyes glinted red for a fraction of a second. That didn’t help calm Rowan’s nerves. 

“So,” Fenrys began, tapping the cover of the journal on the table between them, “you found this on one of the shelves? And it belonged to your parents?”

He nodded. 

“You’re sure?” Rowan flipped open the journal and turned it around to face Fenrys. Silently tapping the corner where his parents names were written with a finger. “Damn.”

With a furrowed brown, Aedion leaned back, shaking his head, “But that doesn’t make any sense. If it belonged to your parents, why-”

“I have no idea.” Rowan groaned in frustration. He planted his elbows on the desk and scrubbed at his eyes with the heels of his palms. He was so confused, and it felt like he had been punched in the gut. With a heavy sigh, he picked up the journal and flipped through it slowly. “I knew my parents were looking for the ruins, and they had mentioned they thought they were getting close, but when I went through their things there wasn’t a single one that mentioned Myrkur at all.” Rowan had always assumed that they had had that particular journal with them and that it had been lost in the accident that claimed their lives. But now…

“Don’t you see what this means?” Fen asked, excitement lighting up his features.

Rowan just stared at him blankly as Aedion asked, “What?”

“It’s fate,” Fen said, as if it were obvious. “What are the odds that you find this journal the very same night I come into procession of a map and a necklace with a Myrkurian symbol on it? It’s like the gods themselves are telling us we’re supposed to find this place!”

A queasiness formed in Rowan’s gut, despite the fact that Fenrys was voicing the very thought that had gone through Rowan’s own mind since he first saw the map and necklace. It was like a sign.

“You’re joking,” Aedion blurted. But the look on Fen’s face told him he very obviously was not. “We aren’t explorers Fenrys. We work at a library for fucks sake! We’d get ourselves killed in less than five minutes if we tried to go out there.”

Rowan winced slightly, his left hand absently rubbing at his chest. Aedion’s words hit a bit too close to home.

It was a fear Rowan had never voiced aloud. He had always wanted to follow in his parents footsteps ever since he was a boy, but instead he had ended up working at a library, researching and cataloging history instead of being out in it. And he felt so guilty for it, that his parents had given their lives doing what they loved and hadn’t achieved their goal of finding the Book and proving magic was more than a myth. He had initially wanted to find it in their memory, to achieve their goal for them. He still did, but he had kept putting it off because-

“What do you think Rowan?”

Rowan started. “W-what?”

"What do you think?” Fenrys repeated, enunciating each word, dark eyes shining in the candlelight.

Rowan glanced down at the journal again. He ran his hand through his hair, absently capturing a lose strand between his thumb and forefinger and tugging it anxiously. “It does seem like more than just a coincidence…,” he said hesitantly. 

Fenrys beamed. “It’s settled then!”

“Like hell it’s settled,” Aedion countered. “We haven’t agreed on anything!”

Fenrys made a face and turned back to Rowan. “Are you going to let that shit Lyria said to you stand?” he asked bluntly. 

Rowan couldn’t hide the flinch that went through him as his former lover’s parting words came rising to the surface, stinging all over again. Fen’s expression wavered, ever so slightly, and Rowan knew his friend could see that had been a low blow to use against him, but Fenrys wouldn’t pull his punches on something like this, not when he had his mind set on it. And not when Fen knew that it could be just the thing to finally light a fire under Rowan. 

And even though it made a cold sweat form on his skin, Rowan said, “No. I’m not.”

“You can’t be serious?” Aedion balked.

“I don’t want to be a librarian forever, Aedion. You know I wanted to follow after my parents and this is- He’s right, it’s like it’s fate telling me it’s time.” Rowan turned to Fenrys again, steeling his nerves. “So I’m in.” 

Fenrys gave him an absolutely feral grin.

Aedion shook his head in dismay, mumbling, “You’re both insane.”

And maybe Aedion was right. Maybe he was insane. He was going into this with almost no experience other than what he had read in books and remembered from his parents. Maybe he would meet the same fate. Or maybe he could pull this off. With the knowledge his mother and father had gathered, perhaps he could achieve what they had set out to do. And maybe, wherever they were now, make them proud.

~*~*~

Rowan was fighting the urge to growl as he stalked up the front steps of the library the next morning, Fenrys on one side, chatting his ear off, and Aedion on the other, still complaining about how reckless and stupid they were. As if Rowan didn’t already know. All the unnecessary noise was making his head spin.

Grinding his teeth, Rowan pushed his way inside and out of the midwinter cold and sighed in relief at the warmth and blessed silence that greeted him as he shucked off his jacked and hung it on the coat rack. That is, until Aedion opened his fat mouth again.

“Are you even sure it’s the real thing?” Aedion demanded. “Before you two go prancing off to gods know where on a fools errand, maybe you should have it checked out first.“

Rowan hated to admit it but Aedion had a fair point, there. One he hadn’t thought of the night before. He caught his lip between his teeth. 

But Fenrys simply shrugged, as if it were of no concern. “We can ask Glennis. She knows maps, and she’s good at authenticating old knickknacks.” Rowan almost laughed. If anyone would know that it would be Fen. He had brought in more than enough trinkets to her over the years. 

They found Glennis in her office, as expected, sipping a cup of tea. Abraxos was stretched out on the rug before the fireplace, displaying the faint scars that blended in with the strange black and grey markings on his coat. His eyes eased open slightly to watch the three of them as they entered the room.

Glennis perked up in surprise, “Good morning, lads.” She set her cup aside and smiled warmly at them, then added teasingly, “Mr. Moonbeam, what a pleasant surprise. I wasn’t expecting you to grace us with your presence until at least noon. Care for some tea?” she asked, gesturing to the pot warming on her desk.

Fen grinned, but it was quickly wiped away as he snarled his nose. “No thank you.” Aedion shook his head in agreement.

Laughing, she glanced towards Rowan. Her expression sobered, noting the seriousness in his face. “What’s the matter, my boy?” 

Right to the point then. Rowan took a deep breath through his nose, trying to fight off the nervousness. “We have something we want to ask you about.” Glennis raised one white brow, a silent signal to proceed. He nodded slightly at Fenrys and the blond stepped forward, pulling the folded map out of his coat pocket. 

When he handed the unfolded paper to Glennis, Rowan could have sworn he saw a faint flicker in her blue eyes. Surprise, shock and … something else, he wasn’t sure. It vanished too quickly and it left him feeling even more anxious. For an entirely different reason. “We think it’s a map to Myrkur,” he informed her quietly.

Her gaze flicked to him briefly, again holding that strange look, before she returned to inspecting the parchment in her hands. “This is not old, barely a few months even though it looks far older.”

“But is it accurate, you think?” Fenrys asked, barely containing his enthusiasm. “Just because it isn’t old doesn’t mean it can’t be accurate. And that marking there,” he moved forward, pointing to a symbol, “I’ve seen that before.” 

She didn’t respond right away, instead pulling the map closer to herself, tilting her head as if in contemplation of something. “Perhaps,” she drawled, not sounding as if she really believe him. She shifted a bit closer to the lamp on her desk, trying to get a better look, a finger tracing an invisible path on the paper. “This bit here looks as if…”

Aedion shifted to Rowan’s right, and Rowan glanced at him. And then Glennis let out a cry of alarm. He jumped at the shout, turning back around to find that the map on fire.

Glennis flung the burning page away, trying to get it away from the paperwork on her desk. 

Rowan gasped, lurching forward as Fenrys dove to the floor after the flaming paper. Both of them frantically swatting to put out the flame before the map was completely gone. Aedion just gaped in shock.

Fenrys snatched the map out from under Rowan’s fingers and let out a strangled noise. As Rowan stood and looked over Fen’s shoulder, his stomach dropped. The corner of the map that held a cluster of ruins, one of which was marked with the symbol for Myrkur, was gone.

Fenrys looked as if he were about to burst into tears.

"Don’t be upset about it, lad,” Glennis said sympathetically, but when Rowan looked at her, he didn’t think she seemed very remorseful. “It was no doubt a very convincing fake. Some charlatan likely concocted it to make a quick profit off a poor unsuspecting fellow that believed Myrkur actually existed. But everyone knows that place was only a fairy tale." 

Fenrys still looked ill, but at her last words, his brows drew together angrily. "It _is_ real!” he argued. His hand went into his pocket, no doubt to pull out the necklace. “I have a-” Fen cut off when Rowan’s hand shot out and grasped his forearm. 

Dark eyes met his questioningly, and Rowan shook his head, ever so slightly. And then Rowan spoke. “Glennis is right.” Fen’s mouth fell open in outrage, and even Aedion gave him a look of utter confusion at the turn around, but Rowan ignored them and held Glennis’s blue gaze, keeping his face neutral, indifferent. “Thank you for confirming my suspicions about the map, Glennis.”

Glennis smiled, and for the first time in the last few minutes, she seemed genuine. And more than a bit relieved. “Any time,” she replied fondly.

Without another word, Rowan turned and left the office. Fenrys followed, still clutching the charred remains of the map, his other hand balled into a fist as if he were contemplating hitting something. Probably Rowan himself. He could feel Fen’s glare burning into the back of his head. 

As soon as they were clear of her office, Fen rounded on him, but Rowan lifted a finger to his lips and urged him to keep quiet. He motioned for both of them to follow him, down aisle after aisle, until they were well out of earshot. Standing at the very spot were Rowan had found his parents journal the previous evening. 

As soon as they stopped Fenrys snapped, “What th-" 

"I think Glennis burned the map on purpose,” Rowan cut him off. Aedion and Fen both blinked at him in absolute shock. “She is not careless. And I have never known her to damage anything before, accidental or otherwise." 

Still they stared, as if not believing what they were hearing. Never had he spoke against Glennis in such a manner, and for him to accuse her of such a thing… It left a bad taste in his mouth to even entertain such a thing, but Rowan couldn’t stop himself from voicing the thoughts that had taken root in his mind. 

"And I still can’t let go of the fact that my parents journal was here in the library when it should have been given to me. I could account for her havint it and it being misplaced on accident, but for her not to have said anything at all to me about it? So I could look? Unless… Unless she didn’t _want_ me to have it. If she hid it there for a reason.” Right where he had found it, in one of the least used sections of the library. And after what had just happened with the map, how adamant she had been about Myrkur not being real. It was no coincidence. It couldn’t be. “What if she doesn’t want us to go looking for Myrkur? And that’s the reason she hid it, and burned the map.”

“But why?” Fenrys asked, still looking confused, but he seemed as if he believed Rowan.

“I don’t know.”

“And you aren’t taking that as a warning?” Aedion demanded, brows drawn with worry. “If Glennis is against it-”

“I am still going, Aedion.” Rowan said unwaveringly. “I don’t care if I have to search every damn one of those ruins until I figure out which one is Myrkur, I am going to find it.” Fenrys beamed proudly at him.

Aedion shook his head. “You do know they called that place the City of Darkness _and Death_ , right?”

Fen grinned, “Scared, Ashryver?”

“I thought you didn’t even believe in Myrkur, Aedion,” Rowan quipped back. “Why are you so worried?”

“I’m not,” Aedion scoffed, throwing a glare at Fenrys. “I just don’t think it’s wise to go creeping around a place with such a _cheerful_ name. If this place was real, I doubt they called it that because the weather was nice and the locals were friendly.”

“I’m going, Aedion,” Rowan repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument. He had made up his mind. Even if it turned out to be nothing, just the ruins of some random old city and not the actual lost city he hoped it to be, at least no one could say he didn’t try.

“Well fuck. Fine! I guess I’m in too,” Aedion groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. Rowan blinked in surprise. When Fenrys smirked, Aedion added, “You two are serious about this, and I can’t let you wander off and get yourselves into trouble alone, can I? You’ll need someone there to save your asses.”

Rowan arched a brow in amusement. 

But then Aedion’s eyes widened as if struck by an idea. “What about my cousin?”

“You’re cousin?” Rowan asked in confusion. 

“Yes, my cousin, Aelin! She’s a treasure hunter,” Aedion went on, “And she’s been all over Erilea, so she has experience. I know she can help us if I ask her! She’s always up for adventures like this.”

Fenrys rolled his eyes, “How good could she be if we’ve never heard of her before?”

Rowan gave Fen a warning look, but couldn'thelp but agree. Aedion mentioned his cousin all the time, bragging about her being a great treasure hunter, and repeatedly mentioning that she would like Rowan if they ever met. Being that this was a historical library, everyone who worked here knew most of the treasure hunters based out of Rifthold by name. Word of the relics they found always spread through the city, and a fair few even reported their findings to the Library, sometimes bringing items in for Glennis to inspect. But they had never heard a single whisper about any Aelin Galathynius.

“You wouldn’t have,” Aedion scowled, “because she doesn’t go by her real name when she hunts. She goes by Celaena Sardothien.”

Rowan’s mouth fell open. Celaena Sardothien? Rutting hell. Sardothien they had heard of. She was almost as big a legend as Myrkur itself, for the places they say she had been, the treasures she had found.

“C- Celaena Sardothien is your _cousin_?” Fenrys choked. 

“Yes,” Aedion answered smugly, as if it had been obvious all along.

Rowan could only gape. Celaena Sardothien was Aelin Galathynius. Aedion’s cousin. The cousin Aedion talked about all the time. The cousin he claimed would like him. _Him_! A lowly librarian while she… _She_ was a fearless treasure hunter. If they ever met she would laugh in his face.

However, if they had her with them, if they could convince her to lead them to the ruins, help them explore the place… they might actually stand a chance at pulling this off. A really good chance. 

Rowan glanced at Fenrys, and noticed he seemed a bit hesitant. Rowan worried his lip, “We really do need someone with actual experience to come along if we are going to do this. We have no idea what we are doing. She really is perfect for the job if she is as good as her reputation says.”

“She’s better than good,” Aedion nearly growled back.

Fen nodded his agreement, “So when can we meet her? The sooner the better.”

A thoughtful look came over Aedion‘s face. “She was actually supposed to meet up with me last night. She got back early from a job and we were going to meet up for dinner, but she never showed.” He turned to Fenrys. “Will you fill in for me? I’ll go to her place and ask her about it.” Fenrys nodded and Aedion left to ask Glennis if he could have the morning off to check on his cousin.

~*~

The morning seemed to drag on as they waited for Aedion to return. Rowan repeatedly checked the time, and as the minutes slowly ticked by, it began to feel as if something was hovering over him. A wave waiting to break. What it was exactly, he didn’t know.

Just past noon, Aedion returned.

Rowan was checking books on the shelves, fairly certain he had gone over the same shelf at least twice already, when the bell above the door tinkled, and he looked up. When he saw the look on Aedion’s face, he knew something was terribly wrong and hurried over to his friend. Aedion just dropped into a seat at one of the empty tables. Fenrys joined them a minute later but Aedion remained silent.

Finally, Rowan couldn’t take the oppressive silence any longer. As gently he possible, he asked, “What happened?”

Aedion opened and closed his mouth, his eyes shifting between Rowan and Fenrys. “I couldn’t find Aelin, but I spoke with her friends. They said…,” He paused and swallowed. “Aelin’s been arrested for inciting a riot. She was taken to Endovier Prison.”


	3. Aelin

Endovier prison had been built atop the remains of the former salt mines nestled at the base of the Ruhnn Mountains. With the perpetually damp weather of the region, all the iron and the salt still in the ground, the air was filled with a musty metallic reek that had Rowan’s stomach churning.

They had been here for over an hour and still had yet to see Aelin.

The warden, a lanky dark-haired man, had sneered when they informed him they were there to see the young woman that had been arrested for starting a bar fight in Rifthold two evenings prior. And he had outright guffawed as he had replied, “Ah, Sardothien.” Aedion had blinked in surprise, he had been unsure of what name to ask for upon arrival. With another chuckle, the warden had said to there and had sauntered off, thankfully missing the daggers Aedion glared at his back. They definitely did _not_ need to end up in a cell next to his cousin.

After Aedion had told them of Aelin’s arrest, they had immediately gone to Glennis, who had ushered them out the doors to go after her. Rowan had procured the funds to cover any possible bail or fines required to secure her release. Aedion had refused the offer but relented when Rowan had insisted, Aedion was like family to him and it was the least Rowan could do to help. 

Aedion had gone quiet after that, they all had. For the entire ten hour train ride, the only sound had been Fenrys’s snoring, he had fallen asleep before they had even left Rifthold’s city limits and had not stirred until Rowan had prodded him awake with a well-placed kick as they arrived in Endin, the little town east of Endovier, just after dawn this morning.

At first, Rowan had assumed Aedion’s silence had been because he was concern for his cousin, but as the hours ticked by, he had realized it was actually because he was livid. 

Rowan could still feel the ire swirling around Aedion like a thunderstorm as he paced around the prison’s waiting area. Fen was acting uncharacteristically nervous, fiddling with a small chain link he had found lying on the ground while Rowan was still trying to ignore his rising nausea. Not only from the smell, but from the waiting area in which they stood. It was essentially a cage in and of itself, with bars lining the doors and windows and there was a small holding cell in one corner of the room, a door reinforced with metal sat in the wall on the other side of the rusting iron bars. 

The sudden sound of footsteps caused Aedion to halt mid-step just as the warden reappeared in the doorway he had vanished through. He gave them a mocking smirk and nodded to the barred space in the corner of the room. 

Clanking chains and scuffing boots sounded on the other side of the closed door inside the holding cell. A second later the door swung open and two guards stepped into the room, a young woman, Aelin Galathynius presumably, held between them.

She was rumpled and a bit grimy, her golden hair falling loose of it’s long braid as she flailed in their grip, swinging her elbows towards their faces. Judging by the shiner blooming around the eye of guard on her left, she had already been successful at least once. 

Rowan’s eyes widened. “ _That’s_ your cousin?” he asked incredulously. Aedion nodded, his mouth twisted into an annoyed frown. Rowan couldn’t believe how young she was. When he had first begun hearing stories about Celaena Sardothien, he had always thought she was around his age or older, but the girl before him looked barely into her twenties. 

Aelin caught a glimpse of them then, seeming to recognize Aedion, and she stopped struggling against the guards. “All right, you bastards, I’m going,” she grumbled. They released her with a shove, causing her to stumble and she let loose a string of curses so foul and completely at odds with the sweet tone of her voice that Rowan nearly choked in surprise.

As she approached the bars, her eyes swept over Aedion with a look of relief. But then her gaze flitted over to Rowan himself, and when her eyes met his, she almost seemed to falter a step. 

Her eyes. Turquoise with a core of gold around the pupil. They were just like Aedion’s, a trait of the Ashryver family, but something about her eyes was… different. They blazed in a way he had never seen before, the gold catching the light and seeming to almost glow. 

And they stole the breath clean out of his lungs. For a heartbeat or an eternity, Rowan honestly didn’t know, she held his gaze and he couldn’t move.

But then she turned those eyes back to her cousin, and Rowan’s breath returned with a sharp inhale and he was left feeling strangely unsettled.

Aelin stepped up to the bars at the same time as Aedion, and Fenrys hung back as Rowan joined them. The manacles on her wrists clanged as she gripped the cold iron and pressed her face close. “What are you doing here?” she asked quietly. Her eyes swept over Rowan again, “And who’s the stud? You’re new lover?”

Rowan’s face heated at her words and the corner of her mouth twitched in amusement. 

“No,” Aedion snorted. “This is Rowan Whitethorn, I told you about him.“ She arched a brow curiously. "So little cousin,” Aedion went on, “what exactly did you do to end up in jail this time?” 

_This time_? Rowan glanced at Aedion. Honestly, he didn’t know why he was surprised. 

It was obvious Aedion was trying to remain calm, but there was a promise of a much louder conversation to come later in his eyes. 

Aelin seemed to notice as well and simply grinned unapologetically up at him. “It’s great to see you again, Aelin. I’m so glad you’re alright, Aelin,” she spoke, pitching her tone into a mocking imitation of Aedion’s.

Gods above, _this_ was Aedion’s cousin? This foul mouthed, crass young woman was the cousin Aedion had repeatedly insisted would _like_ Rowan? Now that he had met her, Rowan wasn’t entirely sure whether or not he should actually feel insulted about it. 

Aelin went on, “For your information, you hulking brute, I was in a bar fight.” 

“So I’ve heard.”

She narrowed her eyes at the interruption, “It wasn’t my fault! Some pretty-faced jackass came up to me and we talked and had a few drinks. Then we went up to my room to-” Aedion interrupted with a disgusted groan. “You asked. Anyway, then he pick pocketed me. I was trying to get my stuff back. That’s why I started the fight. I was arrested, and the bastard got awa-” She broke off, her eyes widening in a expression of shock that quickly shifted into absolute outrage. “ _YOU_!” she hissed. 

Blinking at the outburst, Rowan followed her gaze, glancing over his shoulder. At Fenrys. A sheepish grin tugged at the blond’s lips, even as his dark eyes held a look of terror. 

Aelin’s eyes blazed. “I will kill you,” she purred, the words a promise. “Slowly.”

The pieces started to click together in Rowan’s mind. Fenrys saying he had gotten the map and necklace from a drunk. How unusually nervous he had been ever since he had found out Aedion’s cousin was arrested for a public disturbance in a bar. Why he had seemed to go a bit wan when Aelin stepped out of that door. Fen had stolen the necklace from Aelin, and had subsequently caused her arrest.

Aedion apparently came to the same conclusion, for he was glaring at Fenrys as well, eyes promising to help Aelin deliver that slow, painful death.

Rowan scowled at Fen, shaking his head as he turned back to Aelin and said quietly but hurriedly, "We were looking for you.” Aelin looked up at him, her expression still dark but she quirked a brow in question. “That’s how Aedion learned you had been arrested. We needed to speak to you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “About?” she asked cautiously.

“About Myrkur. The necklace and the map that Fenrys took from you,” he paused, feeling nervous as those eyes of hers seemed to stare right through him. “I wanted to ask if you would be willing to-”

“No,” she cut him off, an almost haunted look her eyes. “I’ve been there once, and I am not going back.”

His heart nearly stopped. “You’ve _been_ there?” he breathed, disbelief and wonder coloring his tone.

Aelin gave a wry smile. “Where do you think I found the necklace? I had only been back in Rifthold a few days when I met your _friend_.” She gave Fen a pointed glare, and he actually had the decency to look ashamed for once.

“And the map actually leads to the lost city?”

“Rowan,” Aedion whispered, casting a glance behind them at the warden, who was looking at them with raised brows, “is now really the best place to discuss this?”

But neither he nor Aelin paid him any mind. “Yes, that’s how I found the ruins,” her voice dripped with more sarcasm.

Rowan bit back his annoyance at her tone and stepped closer to the bars. “Would you lead me, _us_ , there? Aedion, Fenrys and myself.”

Those striking eyes widened in surprise, sweeping over him again. “ _You_ want to go to Myrkur?” She turned to Aedion then, as if she couldn’t believe what she is hearing. 

But Aedion nodded, “We want to find the city and see what might be there.”

She snorted softly. “I can answer that right now. Sand and blood and death. My entire hunting party was killed, I barely got out of there alive.”

Rowan’s stomach began to churn again, and this time it had nothing to do with the salt and rust smell in the air. This was the place he wanted to go? If it was so bad she didn’t want to go back… But he had to. 

“Yes,” he replied, and Aelin’s brows shot up. “I want to go to Myrkur. There’s something there I need to find.” She studied him curiously, as if searching for something. “Please.”

She tilted her head, “You truly want to go? You want my help?” 

Rowan nodded, “Yes.”

After what felt like another lifetime snared by her unflinching gaze, she pursed her lips. “Alright Mr. Whitethorn, I’ll consider _possibly_ taking you lot to Myrkur, if…” 

“… if?”

She motioned with a finger for him to come closer. So he took another step, his face only inches from hers. 

Before he could blink, her hand shot out between the bars, manacle clanging against the iron, and gripped the collar of his shirt, yanking him down to her. Rowan’s lips landed on hers, and his eyes fluttered closed on instinct. He was so surprised, her tongue easily slipped into his mouth to graze his teasingly. 

As quickly as it had happened, Aelin pulled back. Rowan’s eyes snapped open, finding her face still mere inches away, her eyes darting between his. “If you get me the hell out of here,” she breathed. 

Rowan could only stare, eyes wide and lips tingling from the brief touch, too stunned to move even as she was hauled back away from the bars by the guards. 

Aelin began struggling again as the guards attempted to drag her back towards the door to the cells, snapping the chain connecting her wrists in their faces. She elbowed one man in the gut, and then spun around to punch the other in the nose.

Aedion was yelling obscenities at them, yanking on the bars as if he could wrench them apart. But then he rounded on the warden with a near animalistic snarl, “You let her out of there, now!” 

“It was just a misunderstanding,” Fenrys insisted, trying to reason with the man. 

The warden scoffed, a cruel tilt to his mouth. “We aren’t holding her for the brawl. No her list of crimes is very long.” He began prattling off a list of her various aliases and crimes she was wanted for across Erilea; Dianna Brackyn, Lillian Gordaina, Evalin Asher, impersonating a noble woman, numerous accusations of stolen property and artifacts, stealing Asterion horses, participating in illegal gambling and fighting rings… “There’s a warrant for her arrest out of Skulls Bay. We’re planning to send word to them that we have her. They intent to put her on trial and she will likely be locked away for a long time, if they don’t hang her first,” the man added gleefully.

Rowan saw the look that flitted across Aelin’s face at the words. The hint of fear that darkened her eyes, the way her lips wobbled slightly, just for a heartbeat before it was gone. 

It was unbearable, that fear. Something he could not accept. He wouldn’t accept it. And without even thinking about it, he found his own lips parting, his voice cutting across the uproar raging between the others. “I’ll pay you.”

The room went silent. The warden’s dark brows knit together as he looked up at Rowan. 

“Whatever you want, the price isn’t an issue.” The two guards holding onto Aelin stopped and gaped, sharing a glance as if they were contemplating accepting the offer themselves. 

Aelin just stared at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.

The warden appeared incredibly tempted, a hungry, calculating glint in his narrowed eyes. “If you think you can bribe me, you are sorely mistaken, boy. I ought to let her rot just to spite you. Now get out before I have all of you thrown into a cell next to her.” He tried and failed to sound insulted and threatening. But it was clear he was gauging to see if Rowan was serious about the offer, to see just how desperate they were. Still, he motioned to the two guards by the doors to escort the three of them out.

But Rowan refused to move, a new idea taking form. It was a risk, but if it worked… 

“If you don’t want money, what about a trade then?” And the room halted again. The warden was unable to hide his curiosity for the new offer, what valuable thing they might have to barter that was worth more than money. Rowan didn’t think Fenrys or Aedion were breathing, Aedion’s eyes were on him, as if he already knew what Rowan was going to say. “Celaena Sardothien’s freedom… for a relic from the lost city of Myrkur.”

The warden hesitated, “Myrkur is just a myth, everyone knows that boy.”

“No, it’s not,” Rowan countered. He turned to Fenrys and held out his hand. “Give it to me,” he ordered harshly.

Fen’s mouth fell open in outrage. “Rowan…” he began, but his protests fell silent when Rowan turned his gaze on him, silently telling him to be quiet and do as he asked. Fen’s dark eyes widened slightly, as if reading something on Rowan’s face. But then the look was gone, and Fen glowered, grumbling as he dug through his pockets and pulled out the necklace, dropping it into Rowan’s waiting hand.

As soon as it appeared, the warden zeroed in on the golden rings, black eyes shining with barely restrained greed, following every move and sway of the chain as Rowan held it up before him, that blue stone catching the light.

In the cell, Aelin gaped at him, a mix of bewilderment and something else on her face. The guards had loosened their hold on her and were looking on with great interest.

Rowan’s heart was near pounding out of his chest. This was such a gamble. The warden could just throw them in a cell and take the necklace and Rowan’s money if he wanted. But the look on Aedion’s face was so desperate and hopeful, and Rowan knew that if this got Aelin out of this mess, it would be worth it.

He kept his expression relaxed into one of bored neutrality. “There’s no telling how much this thing is actually worth,” he mused. “It’s priceless really, but someone would pay a lot of money for a trinket like this. Enough that a man could live comfortably for the rest of his days. Likely his children and grandchildren too. If one found the right market.” Rowan tilted his head, as if contemplating it himself. 

The warden didn’t say a word, his eyes still drinking in the sight of the necklace, as if in a trance.

“But I guess if you’re still more interested in seeing a little girl spend her life in a cage…” Rowan shrugged. He pulled out a handkerchief, wrapping the pendent inside and stuffing it into thr pocket of his dark grey coat. 

As soon as it vanished, the warden’s mouth opened and closed indignantly, like a fish out of water. Then he hissed, “Fine! You have a deal.” He held out his hand expectantly.

Rowan shook his head. “Release the girl first,” he countered. The warden glared, and Rowan arched an eyebrow, his mouth pulling down into a frown. He was vaguely aware of Fenrys taking a step closer, still glowering, but this time it was directed at the warden. 

“Fine,” the man relented, grumbling as his eyes shifted between the three much larger men. “Release her!” 

The guards immediately began unlocking her handcuffs as the warden stepped over to the door of the cell. A key flashed and the lock clicked and the door swung open. All the while he was giving Aelin a dark glare, silently promising she wouldn’t be so lucky next time.

Aelin flashed him a shamelessly smug grin as she swaggered out of the cell, taking Rowan’s place between Aedion and Fenrys as Rowan stepped forward.

He pulled the folded handkerchief back out of his pocket and offered it to the warden. The man snatched it from him. As he began to unwrap it, Fenrys sidled up next to them, slinging an arm around the much shorter man’s shoulders as he leaned in. Fen whispered something in the man’s ear, his eyes shifting to the guards stationed about room. The warden’s own eyes went wide and he nodded in agreement, casting his own weary glance about.

The warden straightened then, “You lot get out of my prison before I change my mind.” And then he turned and stormed off through the back door.

Rowan spun back towards Aedion and Aelin. 

“You rutting idiot!” Aelin hissed harshly. “How could y-?”

Rowan cut her off, “We need to go. Now!” Eyes wide and full of urgency. 

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him but turned and quickly made for the door, Aedion close behind. Aedion hooked a hand around her upper arm, ushering out of the room ahead of them. 

They didn’t slow until they were through the gates and clear of the prison grounds, climbing into the hired carriage they had waiting to take them back to Endin.

As they settled in and the carriage began rolling down the road, Rowan gave a sigh of relief. His eyes flickered over Aelin, sitting in silence, watching them all carefully.

“Rowan…,” Aedion broke the silence, “thank you. I don’t know how to-.”

Rowan smiled, “Don’t worry about it.”

Aedion nodded slightly, “I can’t believe you gave away the necklace.” He turned towards Fenrys. “And I can’t believe you let him.” 

Rowan turned Fen, arching a silver brow expectantly. 

Fenrys rolled his eyes and snorted. “Do you even know me at all?” he asked, sounding rather disappointed. He lifted his hand and a familiar golden chain and pendant dropped from it for all to see.

Aelin’s face lit up with wicked delight. 

“But if…” Aedion glanced between Rowan and Fen in confusion. “Then what did…?”

“The warden,” Rowan began, a slow grin tugging at his lips, “is going to be highly disappointed when he gets to his office and finds that ‘priceless necklace’ is nothing but a broken chain link.”

Fenrys waggled his eyebrows.

Aelin burst into laughter.

~*~

Rowan watched the seconds tick by on the clock above the boarding platform. They arrived at the Endin train station with twenty minutes to spare before the train back to Rifthold was to leave. While he had purchased their tickets, Aelin had ducked into a back room inside the depot to ‘freshen up’ with the clothes Aedion had brought for her. 

She was still in that back room and it was less than five minutes to departure.

He drummed his fingers against his thigh impatiently, lips pressed into a thin line as he watched the other few passengers boarding the train. They needed to hurry. The warden would surely have discovered their deception by now and would likely be coming after them in a fury. 

Fen huffed. “Will she be done any time soon? If it takes much longer we’ll hav-.”

“We’ll what?” a voice asked from behind them. Rowan spun around to find Aelin standing behind them. His eyes trailed over her taking in her new attire, the dark green tunic tucked into tight brown pants, the black jacket and boots, Her long hair tumbled in loose golden waves down to her waist. She was looking at them expectantly, but with a hint of amusement in her turquoise and gold eyes.

Now that she had washed away the grime from the prison, Rowan noticed she had a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks, her golden skin seemed to glow in the late-morning sun. She looked much better now that she had cleaned up. Pretty even…

He blinked. 

“Finally,” Aedion grumbled, and she gave him a rude gesture. Fenrys barked a laugh.

Just then, the conductor announced the final boarding call.

“Let’s go,” Rowan urged, motioning for the others to head for the train. He stepped aside and motioned for them to board first. Fenrys went, then Aedion. 

But as Aelin went to step up onto the train, Rowan, without thinking, placed his hand lightly on her back. He felt her stiffen beneath his touch a fraction of a second before she flinched violently away from him, turning to look up at him with wide panicked eyes.

Rowan stepped back, hands held placatory before him. “Sorry,” he said breathlessly, blinking in alarm. 

Aelin swallowed, schooling her features but she was still breathing hard. She gave a shrug and a swaggering smile pulled at her lips. Somehow, he could tell the gesture wasn’t genuine. “You just startled me. You get jumpy in a place like Endovier.” 

He nodded, “Yes. I would say so.”

She turned back to get on the train, and he saw that smile vanish, leaving a haunted sort of look in its wake.

And as he stepped up behind her, he knew that what she had said was a lie. It had nothing to do with Endovier at all.

~*~*~

Aelin lifted her eyes slightly, peeking over the top of the book she was reading at the man sitting across from her. 

Her cousin and the puppy, Fenrys, had left a while ago to see if they could scrounge up something to eat. Leaving her alone with this one. Rowan Whitethorn.

Aedion had mentioned him to her a few times, but he had never bothered to tell her how handsome he was. Even if he did look perpetually grumpy. But if he were to smile…

With his dark, pine green eyes, and shoulder length silver hair partially pulled back from his rugged face… Yes, he was _very_ handsome.

She couldn’t wrap her head around it. Why he had offered so much for her freedom. She hadn’t agreed to take him anywhere, but still he had risked losing the necklace, and potentially even his own safety, in order to secure her release. Surely he had to have been aware that, after revealing his hand, the warden could have had them all thrown into cells and simply taken what he wanted. It was a big risk he had taken for her, and she wanted to know why. What did he want from Myrkur that had made him willing to take it?

Rowan’s eyes shifted as he tried to discreetly glance towards her, not for the first time. Aelin couldn’t help but recall, with more than a bit of satisfaction, how those eyes of his had widened when she kissed him. How he had gaped at her. 

He went back to watching the passing landscape beyond the glass and the corners of her lips twitched. She was much better at this game of covert observation than he was.

When he glanced at her again, Aelin smirked. Not bothering to look up from her book, she asked, “Like what you see?” His eyes widened again, face reddening slightly at being caught looking. She smiled wider. “You’re speechless, I know. I am quite beautiful.”

Rowan huffed then. “And humble,” he muttered. 

“That too,” she quirked a brow, delighted with his sarcasm. “I’m sure you’ve rendered many a lovely young lady stupid with your good looks.” His cheeks reddened again and her smile only grew.

The corners of his mouth turned down into a frown, and she could tell he wanted to say something. But when he finally spoke, it wasn’t what she had been expecting. 

“How would you prefer I address you? Miss Galathynius? Or would you prefer Miss Sardothien?” The low timbre of his voice deep and rumbling, the lilting accent entirely too pleasing. It was a Wendlynite accent, she realized. How very interesting.

She was highly tempted to crack a joke and say she would much rather he _un_ dress her, but instead she replied, “Aelin.” She turned a page in her book. “You can call me Aelin.”

Rowan nodded slightly. “Miss Galathynius-”

“ _Aelin_ ,” she corrected, giving him an amused look. But she couldn’t deny the way he said her name sent a thrill through her, all the way down to her toes.

His lips thinned before he repeated, more insistently, “Miss Galathynius…” Aelin shrugged and went back to her reading. “If I may ask-”

“You certainly may,” she interjected teasingly, “but whether or not I answer will be another matter entirely.” Rowan cleared his throat and she bit down on her lip to hide her grin. Oh this was too much fun. 

“If I may,” he tried again, looking a bit put out, “how did you become a treasure hunter?”

Aelin didn’t let her surprise show. That wasn’t the question she had been expecting either, but she would humor him. “A man named Arobynn Hamel found me when I was ten years old and began training me. He taught me nearly everything I know.” 

His lips parted slightly in awe, and she couldn’t help how her gaze dropped to them, lingering longer than she cared to admit.

“So the stories about you are true then?” he breathed. “All of them? Hamel. The places you’ve been… Morla, the Stone Marshes, the Aksar Ruins?”

She couldn’t stop her smile, pleased that he knew of her. “Yes,” she preened. “And many, many more places that people haven’t heard about nor even heard of. I’ve been to Wendlyn,” she added. “You are from Wendlyn, aren’t you? I once explored the barrows running beneath the Cambrian Mountains, searching for some ancient queen’s crown.”

Rowan blinked in shock, tilting his head slightly. “You seem awfully young to have done so much.” His voice held what almost sounded like a hint of concern.

“I will be twenty-two in three months,” Aelin retorted, pursing her lips. He recoiled then, as if he were afraid he had offended her. “Why don’t you just ask me what you really want, Mr. Whitethorn?” She closed her book with a snap and tossed it onto the seat next to her. She folded her arms across her chest. “You want to know if I have truly been to Myrkur. And if I will take you there.”

He frowned, but then reached into the pocket of his dark grey coat and pulled out the necklace and map. 

She tilted her head, “You confiscated them from moon moon?”

“I would just rather hold onto them myself,” he supplied hesitantly.

Aelin laughed, “Afraid I’ll steal them back?” His silence was answer enough. But then her eyes fell on the now unfolded paper, and she saw the blackened edges, the portion that had obviously been burned off, and demanded, “What happened?”

He flicked his gaze up to her, “It was damaged… accidentally.” He almost seemed to balk on the last word, as if he didn’t really believe it had been an accident at all. 

She chewed on the inside of her cheek and then settled back in her seat again. “As I said before, yes, I have been to Myrkur. I was given that map by my former employer, and while I was searching the ruins I found the necklace hidden away in a wall. And then my entire party was attacked by a horde of people on horseback.” She had to pause a moment, images flashing through her mind of the yelling and blood. Rowan listened with rapt attention, his pine green eyes intense. “I don’t know who they were or why they attacked us, but I watched them cut down innocent people and there was nothing I could do. I barely got away with my own life, and had to barter my way back to Rifthold with some diamonds I found in the ruins. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for your help, and I want to help you. I do, I hate to owe anyone anything, but I-.”

His expression shifted in a blink, silvery-white browns rising high as if in outrage. “I just want to be clear, you do not owe me anything, Miss Galathynius,” he said, vehement but not unkind. “Yes, asking you to help may have been the reason we were looking for you, but when we found out you had been arrested, not one of us was going to leave you there. My helping you was never contingent on whether or not you took us to Myrkur.”

Aelin tilted her head in wonder at the sincerity in his features. Most people she knew would have lorded such a thing over her, would have demanded she repay the debt to them. But he… “But you don’t know me.”

He shrugged. “You’re Aedion’s cousin, and he is like our family. That means we will look out for you as well.” The way he said it, as if it were obvious.

She was so genuinely surprised by his words, her heart beat strangely. A tightness formed in her throat. She couldn’t speak for several long moments before finally she managed thickly, “So if I refuse?”

“Then it was a pleasure to finally meet you, and I wish you well with whatever venture you take next. But I will still go to Myrkur.” Again as if were obvious, but his lips had formed a thin line, brows drawn with a little crinkle between them. The thought of him going alone left her feeling deeply unsettled, and not just because of the threat of those riders but… She didn’t really know why.

Aelin let out a heavy sigh through her nose. “If, and I do mean _if_ , I am willing to go back to that place, it will take more than just your pretty face to convince me. I will need a damn good reason, Mr. Whitethorn.”

His expression instantly became stony. “I- I just need to find Myrkur,” he said roughly, haltingly, as if he didn’t want to tell her the real reason. Or couldn’t.

But she pushed anyway. “Why?”

Again that hesitation, before he ground out, “I want to find the Book of Wyrd.” 

Aelin almost snorted at the irony. Again with that book. “Why?” she repeated.

“I just have to find it,” he grumbled, sounding frustrated. Then he amended more softly, “I need to… to prove it exists.” His voice grew softer still as he muttered something under his breath she couldn’t catch.

She gave him a questioning stare, fighting her own irritation at his refusal to give a straight answer. 

But then he dropped his gaze, a look akin to devastation shining in his dark green eyes. He bit his lip, his left hand rose to his chest. “My parents, they were looking for the book, but they died before…” he trailed off, and she felt her own heart ache as she realized what he couldn’t say. “I wanted to find it for them.”

And the sadness in his voice. She understood all too well his pain, had gone through it herself. And she knew that desire to try and keep a memory alive. 

Aelin swallowed back the emotion that threatened to choke her. She didn’t know why, but for some reason, she felt her lips move, the word forming of it’s own accord. “Alright.”

Rowan blinked in shock. “Alright?”

“I’ll take you to Myrkur.” She was shocked with herself. And even more surprising, she found that she meant it. Truly meant it.

He narrowed his eyes, as if unsure whether or not to believe her. Finally, he murmured, “Thank you.”

Aelin picked her book up again and opened it to the page she had been reading. “Don’t thank me yet, Mr. Whitethorn. I still have to get you there and back alive.” She gave him a second to let that sink in and then asked, “I assume it will be you, my beloved idiot cousin and moon moon included in our little hunting party?”

“Yes.”

She nodded, “I have two others that will be joining us as well, if they wish.” She hated to ask it of them, to ask them to come into such a dangerous environment but if she was going to face that place again, she would much rather do so with two people she trusted with her life at her side.

“I can pay you for your trouble. All of you. Whatever you wish.” He offered softly.

Aelin shook her head. “It’s not necessary.” He began to argue but she rolled her eyes. “We’ll discuss compensation later, after we get back.” She hoped he heard and understood what she hadn’t let her self say. _If_ they got back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy that little smooch, it's the only one for a good while :)


	4. Departure

Rowan cursed under his breath as he ran through the streets of Rifthold, trying to keep up with Fenrys’s golden head as he wove between pedestrians, trying to avoid bumping into anyone on their way to the train station. 

He had made a last minute decision to go back to the library see Glennis one last time before they departed. She hadn’t seemed particularly pleased with him this morning when he informed her that he had decided to go to the Deserted Lands. She had wished him luck of course, but she had still sounded disappointed with his decision, and it left him feeling like he needed to try and make things right before he left. 

But when they had stopped by the library on their way to the station, Glennis was no where to be found. Her office had been empty, and even Abraxos was missing. 

The detour had cost them, and they were now running late. 

Rowan and Fenrys stumbled to a halt on their boarding platform, earning several disapproving looks from the other waiting passengers. Rowan’s rasping breath sent steam billowing into the winter air around him as he scanned the crowds milling about in the lamppost lights, but Aedion and his cousin were no where to be seen. 

He checked his pocket watch to make sure of the time. 7:34. They were four minutes later than the time Aelin had told them to meet her, but here they were and she wasn‘t there. He wouldn’t be surprised if she intended to wait until the last minute to make her appearance again. Feeling a slight twinge of irritation, he shoved his watch back into his vest pocket. 

“Looking for someone, Mr. Whitethorn?”

Rowan nearly jumped out of his skin. Heart racing, he spun to find the owner of that familiar, feather voice looking up at him, her head cocked to the side and an amused tilt to her lips. 

Aelin turned her striking eyes to Fenrys. “Mr. Moonbeam,” she added, her tone unimpressed and lacking inflection. 

Unfazed by the cool greeting, Fen smiled winningly at her, turning on his usual charm. “Miss Galathynius! You’re looking lovely this evening.”

Indeed she did. Her white blouse was tucked into high-waisted black-and-grey-pinstriped trousers that accentuated her figure. Rowan felt his face warm and quickly lifted his eyes back up to hers, finding her already watching him, a mischievous little glint in her turquoise and gold gaze.

Rowan cleared his throat, pointedly ignoring Fenrys’s pouting, “I thought you might not have arrived yet.”

She tilted her head, “Yes, we arrived some time ago. I already purchased our tickets, and Aedion went ahead with the others to take our baggage to our compartments.“ Aelin reached into her pocket and withdrew two slips of stiff paper. "I waited in the lobby for you to arrive,” she added, offering one to each of them.

Rowan accepted his ticket, scanning the information written in red and black ink. _Rifthold to Arran. Departure Time: 8:00 PM_. “Lead the way then, Miss Galathynius.”

Her lips twitched with a hint of a smile, but she turned on her heel and began striding towards the waiting trains, a sway to her hips.

Rowan felt his pulse quicken as he stared after her, unable to help himself. Next to him, Fenrys let out a low whistle, and when Rowan managed to turn his attention to his friend, Fen’s dark eyes were alight with glee as they darted between Rowan and the retreating blonde. Fenrys’s brows rose suggestively as he gave Rowan a wolfish grin. Rowan scowled, elbowing Fen in the side before he hurried after Aelin, smirking at the indignant curse Fen barked at him.

Aelin led them through the throng of people on board the train, the progress slow thanks to the other passengers still making their way to their own seats. It took them nearly fifteen minutes to finally reached the car with their own compartments. “Yours is two doors down,” she informed him, pointing on down the hall. 

“Thank you,” Rowan nodded and stepped around her, intending to go put away his travel bag when the door to his left slid open. 

A head of dark brown hair appeared. “I thought I heard-,” the young woman’s words trailed off, vivid green eyes widening as they slowly rose to his face. Rowan’s breath caught in his throat at how beautiful she was. But then she seemed to notice Aelin and her expression shifted. Her full lips turned up into a charming smile, and the gesture distinctly reminded Rowan of a cat about to pounce on a new play toy. “Hello,” it was practically a purr, her voice high but pleasant and sultry. “Who are you?”

Rowan’s face heated at her tone and look she gave him. Aelin let out a hearty laugh, and at the sound, another much shorter girl stepped up to the brunette’s shoulder, moon pale with hair and eyes black as a starless night and just as lovely. 

“Lys,” Aelin laughed, taking a step closer to loop her arm through the green-eyed beauty’s. “He’s not a job. This is Mr. Whitethorn, our new client.”

The woman lifted her cat-like gaze back to Rowan, her movements purely feline as she tilted her head. “He’s much better looking than our usual clientele.”

Aelin nodded, her eyes traveled up and down his tall frame and Rowan felt his face heat again. “I know,” she agreed, lips turning up into a smirk. And then she turned her attention to Fen. “And this is Mr. Moonbeam. They are both friends of Aedion. Gentlemen, this is Lysandra Ennar,” she paused and gestured for the other woman to come forward, the girl’s dark eyes studying them with an unnervingly perceptive intensity. “And this is Elide Lochan. My two closest companions and hunting partners.”

“It’s very nice to meet you both,” Elide finally said, voice low and steady.

Rowan inclined his head, “And you as well.” 

Fenrys stepped closer, and went so far as to take Lysandra’s hand and press a kiss to her gloved knuckles, “The pleasure is all ours,” the blond murmured. Rowan barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes at Fen’s shameless flirting, but Aelin, it seemed, had now qualms in doing so, and he felt the corner of his mouth twitch in amusement. 

Lysandra gave Fen a look that clearly said she thought he was full of it as she extracted her hand from his grip, just as a door down the hall opened and Aedion stepped out into the aisle. 

He let out a noise of relief. “There you two are! What took you so long?” He made a face at Fenrys when he noticed the Fen was still eyeing Lysandra. “I thought you were going to miss the train.” 

Fen snorted. “This one,” he shoved his elbow into Rowan’s back, returning the gesture from earlier, and causing Rowan to stumble a half step, “decided he wanted to go back to the library to see the old bir-.” He trailed off at the glare Rowan gave him and amended, “I mean, see Glennis before we left.”

Aelin quirked a brow curiously. “Glennis?” 

Rowan turned back to her. “The head librarian where we work,” he explained. “She’s like a grandmother to me.” He blinked in surprise, unsure why he had felt the need to tell her that. But Aelin smiled at him and the sincerity in the gesture caused a warmth stir in his stomach. Rowan cleared his throat.

Before he could say anything, Fenrys cut in, voice full of excitement, "Well, guys, we’re actually doing this! We’re on a train about to leave Rifthold! Can you believe it?”

Rowan blinked Fenrys’s words sank in, and he turned to stare out the window behind them at the platform. The smattering of snow in the lamplight. The glow of the city beyond the station.

Rifthold had been his home for years, and he didn’t know when, or even _if_ , he would see it again. Since the moment they had decided to go looking for Myrkur, Rowan hadn’t really stopped to really think about what they were doing, what it all meant. And now it all seemed to wash over him and left him feeling nervous, his fears from before welling up inside him again. 

There was still so much they had to do, and they still didn’t even have a real plan. He turned back to Aelin. 

She was smirking at something Fenrys had said, “When you get sand in places you didn’t think possible, Mr. Moonbeam, you’ll miss all this snow.” Fen looked positively horrified at the notion, and Aedion and Lysandra, and even Elide, laughed at his expression. Aelin must have noticed Rowan’s silence, however, for she looked to him and seemed to read all the thoughts that had gone through his head. 

Strangely, Rowan wasn’t as unsettled by it as he probably should have been, that this girl he hardly knew seemed to be able to read him so easily when most could not. “Miss Galathynius, we need to discuss our arrangements for the rest of the trip. And what are we going to do about supplies?”

She simply gave him an evasive smiled, “Don‘t worry about that at the moment. It’s a very long way from here to Myrkur, we will have plenty of time to go over everything.”

His eyes widened. This was important, something they should have already planned out. For her to be so unconcerned about it. “But-”

“You wanted me to take you to Myrkyr. So that is want I’m going to do.“ Aelin’s brows rose as she crossed her arms, an amused smile tugging at her lips. "Just do as I say and you will get there. Now relax, have a good night’s sleep and enjoy the trip, Mr. Whitethorn.” Her tone left no room for argument.

Rowan’s own brows shot in irritation at the dismissal, and he could feel the others’ eyes darting between him and Aelin. It only served to aggravate him more. He started to push the topic, but just then, an attendant entered the car and approached them. “Tickets please.”

Smiling sweetly, Aelin turned to the woman and presented her ticket and Rowan pulled his own ticket out of an inside pocket on his coat. She proceeded to mark each of their tickets with a stamp before returning them. As she was handing Elide’s back to her, the lady smiled again, “Gentlemen, if you would please make your way to your seats now, we are about to depart.” She gestured with her hand for them to make their way on down to their compartment.

Rowan nodded but still scowled at Aelin as he turned to follow Fenrys, noticing how Elide gave the taller girl a small smile, the first real emotion she had shown since their meeting, before her dark eyes turned to him. Rowan stormed to their compartment, but halfway through the door he paused when he realized Aedion had made no move to follow. “Aedion?” he asked over his shoulder.

“I’ll be there in a second.” Aedion called back. He was saying something to his cousin, but Aelin was still looking at him, a small smile still on her face.

With an annoyed huff, Rowan went inside and slid the door shut with enough force that it rattled on its track. He stepped over to the plush red seats and hefted his traveling bag over his head, shoving it up onto the overhead rack above his seat. All the while, doing his best to ignore Fenrys’s grin.

“What has your feathers all ruffled, Whitethorn?” Fen asked, voice dripping with enough humor that Rowan knew he was already knew well aware of what was bothering him and was simply wanting to goad him further.

So Rowan didn’t bother to say a word, just giving Fen a withering glare as he dropped into the seat across from his friend. He turned his attention to the scene outside. At the gentle snow once again falling from the dark evening sky. 

A few minutes later, just as the train gave a lurch and began to pull away from the platform, Aedion joined them. But Rowan just kept staring out the window, still thinking about the infuriating woman in the compartment down the hall, and how he was starting to think he was going to regret ever asking her for help.

~*~*~*~ 

Aelin checked her reflection in the window pane. She adjusted the pale green neckerchief at her throat and then patted her hair, making sure the emerald pins were still holding the hair she had painstakingly braided into a twist in place. She had even bothered to lightly dab on a bit of cosmetics on her cheeks and lips, not enough to be obvious, but enough to emphasize their color. She had a role to play this morning. Part of her plan to _hopefully_ get them as close to Myrkur without notice as possible. 

Of course Rowan would likely lose his mind when he found out what the plan was. The thought brought a smile to her face.

In the glass, Aelin noticed Lysandra giving her an amused look, one perfectly groomed brow arched. "What?” Aelin asked, turning to look at her friend. “Why are you giving me that look again?”

Lysandra averted her gaze and murmured, “No reason.” She picked at the lace collar of her mint green dress, looking very much like she was trying not to smirk. 

Sitting near the compartment door, Elide’s dark eyes flitted between the two of them. Even she seemed to be giving Aelin a sort of knowing stare, like that clever mind of hers had come to a conclusion for some unknown question.

It was the look they had both been giving her since last evening, right after she had introduced the two of them to Rowan…

Rolling her eyes, Aelin snatched her little vanity bag off the seat and shoved it back into her suitcase, shutting the lid with slightly more force than necessary. She grabbed her other bag off the floor and stepped out into the hall to escape any more close scrutiny from them, and came practically face to face with the very reason she had been on the receiving end of all of those looks. 

Rowan stood just outside of the men’s compartment, silvery white hair tied back in a knot at the back of his head, as he shrugged on his coat, broad shoulders straining against the fabric of the button down shirt he wore with the movement. He glanced up then, and paused as his eyes landed on her, fingers halting as he buttoned his coat. His pine green eyes seemed to soften slightly as he gazed at her and Aelin felt a strange flutter in her stomach. 

But then Fenrys stepped out of their compartment, saying something to Rowan and he looked away, leaning down to pick up his own luggage bag as he responded to whatever Fenrys had said. They joined her a moment later, but when Rowan met her gaze again, the look that had been in his eyes was gone, and Aelin wondered if she might have imagined it. 

“Good morning, Miss Galathynis,” his deep voice rumbled.

“Good morning,” she replied, inwardly cringing as her voice came out soft and breathy. “Did you rest well?” 

His lips parted to reply but Fenrys, who had been speaking with Elide and Lysandra, turned to her with a playful gleam in his dark eyes. “Not really. Rowan snored _all_ night.” Rowan let out an indignant noise, looking out right insulted as he leveled a glare at his friend. Fenrys grinned shamelessly, showing off his perfect white teeth. 

“Was that what all the noise was?“ Aelin asked teasingly. "I thought perhaps they might have let a bear onto the train when we stopped at Anielle.”

Fenrys snorted as he stifled a laugh and Rowan’s brows shot up, the look in his eyes promising that Fenrys had best sleep with an eye open from now on. Aelin snickered, until she noticed Elide and Lysandra giving her that look again.

“Fen is the one who snores like a bear during hibernation,” Aedion whispered loudly, ducking to avoid the fist that Fenrys aimed for his head in retaliation. “We hardly slept a wink.”

One corner of Rowan’s lips twitched in a hint of a smirk, “I was debating tossing him out the window.” Aelin was so surprised at the semblance of humor that she blinked, afraid if she were to laugh at his joke, it would vanish. He still seemed a bit put out by their conversation last night.

“Well, shall we?” Aelin asked, gesturing towards the exit, knowing they were eager to set out. And they did need to hurry, or else their ride for the next leg of the journey could leave without them. If it hadn’t already. 

Rowan made to take a step to follow her, but Fenrys sidled in front of him, earning another dark look from the silver haired man. Aedion offered his arm to Lysandra as Rowan settled in next to Elide, a look of long-suffering on both of their faces.

Aelin led them away from the station into the quaint streets of Arran, a little town in the very south western corner of Adarlan, settled at the base of the White Fang Mountains next to the boarder with the Wastes. It also happened to be a river port town, situated at the headwaters of the Bogdano River. A river that just so happened to flow all the way to the edge of the Red Desert…

“May I ask what you are planning?” Rowan’s voice broke through her thoughts and Aelin halted, boots clicking on the cobblestones as she turned to look at her companions. “Or will it be dismissed again?” Oh, he was definitely still miffed at her. 

Elide and Lysandra were used to her roundabout way of revealing her plans, but apparently, Rowan Whitethorn was not going to have it. Fair enough. He was the one who hired her after all.

She smiled at him, “I’m _planning_ to find us a boat at the port.”

Surprise flashed across his features. “So we’re traveling by riverboat then.” Not a question. 

“Pretty _and_ smart,” Aelin crooned playfully, causing him to scowl at her again and she bit her lip to keep from cackling with glee. “Yes, Mr. Whitethorn, we are going by riverboat. Now if you’ll follow me, we need to hurry before it leaves.”

~*~*~

"Does it make you feel better to watch me like a hawk?” Aelin asked without glancing back at him as they made their way down the docks. “Or maybe a buzzard would be a more fitting,” she mused, a smile in her voice that told him she was immensely pleased with herself for the comparison.

Rowan ignored the jab, tearing his eyes away from her to scan the boats moored along the docks, waiting for passengers or goods to be loaded or unloaded. There were all manner of vessels along the wharf, from skiffs to sloops to merchant ships and fishing boats. However Aelin seemed to be searching for something specific-

She halted suddenly, and Rowan had to take several quick steps to keep from slamming into her back. He narrowed his eyes at her in annoyance but followed the direction of her gaze to a white riverboat, the words _River Queen_ emblazoned on its black hull in gold letters. 

Aelin sat her luggage on the ground next to Lysandra. “Mr. Whitethorn, come with me, please. The rest of you, wait here. We‘ll be back shortly.” She didn’t bother to wait and see if they listened, just strode off in the opposite direction, towards the building fronts to their left.

Rowan quickly followed. surprised that she was even including him in whatever she had planned. When she stopped walking, it took him a moment to realize they were standing in line at a ticket counter with other would-be passengers. 

The minutes ticked by, and as they slowly made their way closer to the front of the line, Aelin tugged on his coat sleeve. “Ask him about passage aboard the _River Queen_ ,” she instructed him quietly. “It’s the boat that brought me back from the desert.” 

Rowan glanced down at her, noting the slight apprehension in her features. The boat that had carried her away from the desert… and now it was about to carry her -and her friends- right back into the very place she had so desperately escaped. Guilt gnawed at him as the information settled. How could he ask this of her after what she had gone through? But without her help, he would likely never find Myrkur or the Book.

“It sails to Yurpa, but we won’t be going there,” she went on.

He wanted to be annoyed that she still wasn’t telling him all of her plans, even if it was only to distract himself from the shame he felt for asking this of her, but it was more information than she had yet offered without specifically being asked. So Rowan nodded and kept silent. 

When it was their turn, Rowan stepped up to the window and forced as friendly of a smile as he could manage onto his face. “Good morning, sir. I was wondering if we might get rooms aboard the _River Queen_ for six passengers?” Aelin took a step closer to him, her arm nearly brushing his as she smiled.

The man eyed them questioningly before addressing Rowan. “I’m sorry, sir. There’s only four rooms available, I’m afraid.”

Rowan’s stomach sank. They would have to delay the trip until they could find a boat with enough rooms, or hope that two more rooms opened up before the River Queen departed… whenever that was. Likely very soon. Perhaps there was another boat preparing to leave that still had enough rooms?

He was just about to ask when a slim arm wrapped around his. He jumped slightly at the unexpected touch, looking down at Aelin in confusion to find her already gazing up at him with a look of utter adoration. 

“Why, that’s perfect!” she declared, voice soft and airy. She fluttered her lashes shyly, a delicate blush tingeing her cheeks. “We’re newly married you see,” she added bashfully, and Rowan near choked, eyes widening. “We we’re going on a trip with a few of our friends. My cousin and his wife, her younger sister, and our friend. It’s a room for each of us! Why, it’s like it was meant to be! Don’t you agree, darling?”

His face felt like it was on fire. Gods, why in the world would she-?

But the man nodded with a sly grin, looking Aelin over before glancing up at him once more, and Rowan just barely managed to force a shaky smile back to his lips. As he turned away to prepare their papers, Rowan heard the man mutter, “Lucky bastard.” 

Aelin gave him another shy smile as she hugged his arm tighter, but Rowan saw that familiar wicked glint beneath. He tried his best to ignore the way his arm tingled where she touched it, every nerve seeming to be hyperaware of the closeness, the softness of her pressed against him, as he paid for the tickets. As they turned to leave, the man informed them the boat was to leave in about an hour. They thanked him, Aelin happily, Rowan weakly.

As they made their way back to towards their waiting friends, Rowan pinched her side lightly. Aelin let out an undignified yelp and glared up at him, sticking out her tongue. “What the rutting hell was that?” he demanded quietly. 

She pursed her lips, “It got us on the boat, didn’t it? I don’t see what the problem is.”

“The problem,” he hissed, glowering, “is that you lied about us being married.” His ears were burning, and he wouldn‘t have been surprised if his face was just as red. Thank the gods Fenrys wasn’t here, if he saw him blushing like this he’d never let him live it down.

Aelin smirked. “Is that what you’re so hung up on?” Her voice full of amusement. If it were possible, he could have swore his face felt even hotter. “It was necessary. Short of putting off our departure who knows how long to wait for enough rooms, this will be simpler.”

“ _Simpler_?” He honestly didn’t see how lying about being married would be anything less than unnecessarily complicated. 

She sighed. “Posing as married couples on a relaxing holiday will draw much less attention than a group of six traveling into the desert,” she explained.

Oh. _Oh_. 

Rowan felt his anger lessen as he realized what she wasn’t saying. She didn’t want the wrong people to learn of their trip, on the off chance their were eyes and ears in this town on the look out for such things. Like that group that had attacked her last time. People would always talk, either by being too loose lipped in front of the wrong people or coerced for the right amount of coin. And anyone asking about parties headed into the desert would be less suspicious of married couples that appeared to be on a holiday. And in order for that cover to work, they would have to look and act like a married couple.

“You were already planning this,” he stated, not a question. “That’s why you didn’t want to share you plans with me.”

She nodded, “Yes, I knew you would be pissy about it.”

“I am not _pissy_ ,” he grumbled. No. He was irritated, but knew she had a valid point. But to have to pretend to be married to _her_? To have to share a room with her… He had to swallow the lump that rose in his throat.

Aelin smirked. “Are you afraid of me, Mr. Whitethorn?” She looked at him in that way she so often did, like she was seeing right through him, reading him as easily as she would read the page of a book. His face started to heat again under those laughing turquoise and gold eyes.

He forced himself to look away and saw the others waiting for them under the eave of a nearby shop, trying to escape the midmorning sun, watching the two of them with interest. Aedion seemed confused, but Lysandra and Fenrys both seemed to be highly amused about something. Elide was perched atop her suitcase, her eyes studying the blonde. “What did you do now, Aelin?” she asked softly.

Aelin grinned, holding out her hand to Rowan in silent request for the tickets, which he promptly handed over. “Well, the good news is we are leaving in less than an hour.”

“And the bad news?” Aedion prompted, eyeing his cousin warily.

“Unfortunately, four of us will be sharing rooms. Mr. Whitethorn and myself, and you and Lys, if the two of you aren’t opposed,” she explained, handing a ticket to Lysandra, Fen and Elide. “You and Mr. Moonbeam lucked out this time, Elide.”

Good. Elide seemed to have the patience of a saint to be able to put up with Aelin’s antics. But as much as he loved his friend, no one deserved to be cooped up in a room pretending to be married to Fenrys for seven days. Rowan had no doubt that arrangement would have ended with Elide strangling Fen.

Aedion’s eyes had widened slightly in surprise at his cousin’s words, but neither he or Lysandra seemed to be bothered by the news as Aelin quickly explained the cover story she had concocted and her reasoning behind it. 

It was then that Rowan noticed how Aedion was looking at Lysandra. The softness gracing his features, the little smiles they shared and whispered words passing between them, seemingly lost in each other as they spoke. 

Rowan had to swallow hard as a familiar ache formed in his chest. The memory of a pair of warm brown eyes surfacing in his mind. He didn’t love Lyria, not any more. But it still hurt.

He felt Aelin’s watching him then. Closely. Her eyes alight with curiosity and what almost looked like concern as she noticed the shift in his mood. Rowan quickly looked away, afraid that she might read what he had been thinking, and not sure he could handle it if she began asking questions or looked at him with pity.

Elide suggested then that they grab a bite to eat before they went to find their rooms. So they retreated down the street to a little diner. 

When they finally made their way back to the riverboat, Rowan playing the part of the dutiful husband by carrying his wife’s surprisingly heavy luggage, there was an attendant standing at the foot of the _River Queen_ ’s gangway, checking the papers for each passenger as they slowly made their way on board. Just ahead of them stood two men, both tall and dark-haired. One was even taller than Rowan himself by a few inches, with shoulder length inky-black hair. He looked pissed at the world, and the poor attendant looked absolutely terrified of him.

Aelin nudged his arm to get his attention and when he looked down at her, she smirked. “Looks like you’ll have someone to brood and commiserate with,” she murmured playfully. He grimaced and she started to giggle. Behind him, Fenrys laughed quietly, and even Elide was smirking, obviously having heard the jest as well. 

Once on board, they set out in search of their rooms. Unfortunately, according to the room numbers on the tickets, none of their rooms were next to each other, but there was nothing to be done about that now. He was just thankful they had actually made it onto the boat and were about to finally be on their way. 

Even if he had to endure Aelin’s pretend lovesick looks and blushing smiles and her hand on his arm each time they passed someone.

As they parted with their companions at each of their rooms, Aelin whispered for them to meet in her and Rowan’s room later so they could finally begin going over their plans for the rest of the journey. 

He and Aelin passed a young man with vivid blue eyes who smiled at them in greeting as they rounded a corner, and finally found what was to be their room for the next seven days. 

Inside it was slightly larger than what he had expected, cozy and finely furnished. Oil lamps were hung on the white walls and a rug covered most of the hardwood floor. There was a little vanity and a table with chairs, a small settee and a changing blind. In the back corner, there was an enclosed space that was likely a small wash room. And, taking up most of the room’s space, was a single bed, just big enough for two people, bedecked in sheets of cream and beige with a matching duvet.

Rowan swallowed hard and tore his eyes away from the offending piece of furniture, stepping over to the settee to deposit her suitcase in the plush chair with a sigh of relief. He eyed it warily, then looked around to the large bag she still held. None of the others had brought two bags. “Miss Galathynius, were both of these necessary?” he asked hesitantly, gesturing to both pieces of her luggage.

Aelin gave a simpering smile, tilting her head. “Very necessary, Mr. Whitethorn. One must always be prepared to dress for any occasion,” she intoned with mock seriousness. 

“Both of these are full of clothes?” he asked incredulously.

“Of course not! That one has my clothing in it. This one,” she lifting the bag she still held and shook it slightly for emphasis, “is my weapons bag.”

His brow furrowed. “Weapons bag?” 

“Yes. My knives and daggers and guns… my negligees.“ Rowan choked and she smirked wickedly. “Clothes are weapons too,” she added, turquoise and gold eyes bright with amusement at his reaction.

He felt his face starting to warm again and quickly turned away. Gods, what had he gotten himself into?

~*~*~*~ 

Aelin sighed as the door to her and Rowan’s room clicked shut, the others just leaving after a long day of going over plans. They hadn’t even bothered to go to the dining cabin to eat, simply taking dinner in her and Rowan’s room to avoid interruption. She tried her best to mentally prepare them for what to expect while crossing the Red Desert and when they reached Myrkur. There was still a few more days to worry about it, and she only hoped it would be enough.

She had recounted all she could of her trip across the Red Desert and the sprawling ruins of the palace beneath the sands. Told them of the little trading village called Ieva along the rivers banks, where she had found refuge after escaping last time, and where they would be getting off the riverboat when it stopped. From there, they would gather all the supplies they would need and set out for Myrkur.

Rowan listened to everything with rapt attention, and being under his intense gaze left her feeling strangely breathless. 

It had surprised her when he had pulled that book out of his bag and told her it was his parents journal on Myrkur. He had said her he was still working his way through all of it, but that it contained a multitude of information on the ruins and he had no doubt he could use it to find what he was looking for. 

When she had asked him if she could look at it, Rowan hesitated but handed it to her. She flipped through the pages, eyes skimming over the elegant scrawl, but it was all written in the Old Language, and while she had learned to speak and read most languages of Erilea upon Arobynn’s request, she hadn’t yet had the opportunity to learn the languages of Wendlyn.

As she returned it to him, her eyes had caught on a symbol on one of the pages, that same ‘eye’ shape as the necklace. The symbol that had marked Myrkur on the map. Something about it nagged at her, and now, alone in their room as they were preparing for bed, she found her eyes drawn to the necklace again.

Rowan had refused to part with it since he had gotten it from Fenrys, and he seemed a bit uneasy when he noticed her stare, probably afraid she was going to change her mind or steal it back from him. But it wasn’t that. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she had seen that symbol before, and it had nothing to do with the necklace or the map. It was before that. But trying to think of where she might have seen it was like trying to solve a puzzle without all the pieces. 

Aelin dried her face and then left the small washroom. She was exhausted and beyond ready to fall in bed and sleep until noon. She kicked off her boots and padded over to her travel bag, pulling the pins out of her hair and shaking it free of the braid as she grabbed something to sleep in and ducked behind the blind to change. 

When she emerged, she found Rowan with a furrowed brow, staring intently at the bed as if it had personally offended him. But then he glanced up at her and his eyes widened, a strangled noise catching in the back of his throat. 

She arched a brow, tossing her discarded clothing over the arm of a nearby chair, and glanced down at herself. The nightgown she wore might have been a bit short, the black lace along the hem falling barely past mid-tight, and the deep red silk clung to her figure a bit too closely, but she was decent enough. And her robe covered everything anyway, even if it was untied. 

Aelin looked back up and found Rowan’s eyes trailing down her legs before darting nervously back up to her eyes. His face shifted between three shades of red and she felt a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as he cleared his throat, “That seems highly improper for this situation.” 

Unable to pass up an opportunity to rile him, she smiled sweetly, “I thought the nightgowns would be more acceptable since I usually sleep naked.” 

Rowan turned a shade of red that very nearly matched her nightgown, and she burst into laughter. When she collected herself enough to see clearly again, he was scowling at her, face still a brilliant shade of crimson. “Oh, come now Mr. Whitethorn, surely you’ve seen a lady in her nightgown before? And probably in less than that, I would wager.”

“That isn’t the point,” he stammered, words coming out faster and his accent thicker than usual. “You don’t-” 

She made her way over to one of the lamps hanging on the wall, dimming the flame burning within, and made sure to sway her hips as she walked back to the bed. “Am I offending your delicate sensibilities, sir?” she asked innocently as she pulled back the covers. He let out another indignant noise. Oh he made picking at him too easy. “Or would you _rather_ I slept naked?” 

He groaned softly. “You are a menace,” he muttered. He grabbed his own night clothes from his bag and went to change. When he stepped back out, he glanced at her and then about the room. “You can have the bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.” 

“What?” Her brows furrowed in surprise. Her amusement vanished like smoke in the wind. Surely he wasn’t serious. 

“I’m sleeping on the couch,” he repeated as he grabbed a pillow and one of the many sheets from the bed.

She gave the settee a disparaging look. “You know, for all intents and purposes, we are married for the next week. You can sleep in the bed,” she offered. 

“This will be fine,” he grumbled as turned away.

The dismissal stung a lot more than she cared to admit. “Suit yourself.” 

Aelin climbed into bed and burrowed under the covers, watching Rowan in the dim light as he tried to find a comfortable position on the settee. Stubborn man. For good measure, she stuck her tongue out at him. And then she rolled over, so her back to him instead, and she stared at the small flame still flickering in the lamp on the bedside table until she fell asleep. 


	5. Dinner

Their second day on board the _River Queen_ hadn’t been all that different than their first. Most of it was spent in Aelin and Rowan’s room talking. Late in the afternoon, Lysandra had suggested they venture out to mingle amongst the other passengers and get some fresh air. If they were actually a group on holiday, they wouldn’t stay cooped up in their rooms the entire time. Even if some of them were ‘on a honeymoon’ she added with a wink, causing Rowan to flush. 

So out they went. And little to Aelin’s surprise, but much to her amusement, Rowan had quickly become flustered with her antics and made up dozens of excuses to escape back to their room. 

After a stroll around the lower and upper-most levels, they made their way back towards their rooms. It was nearly time for dinner and the smells wafting from the dining cabin were making Aelin’s stomach growl something fierce. So she left Lysandra and Aedion and Elide at their rooms and nearly ran back to her own room to change.

When she slipped into the room, her eyes immediately landed on Rowan. He was sitting at the table reading from his journal, fingers absently twirling a strand of his silver hair that had escaped from the knot he had tied it in. But what caught Aelin’s attention the most were the glasses. Big, black wire-framed, and sliding down his nose as he stared intently at the pages of his journal with a furrowed brow. 

She had no idea that he wore glasses, hadn’t seen him with them on since they met. 

A slow smile spread across Aelin’s face. For some strange reason, the fact delighted her to no end. 

Rowan was so absorbed by whatever it was he was reading that he still hadn’t realized she had entered the room. So Aelin pushed the door closed behind her, the click of lock causing him to startle. His green eyes were wide as they snapped up and landed on her. 

The expression on his face caused a laugh to bubble up into her chest. She managed to stifle it, but couldn’t keep the smile from her voice when she spoke, “You wear glasses.” 

His eyes followed her cautiously as she crossed the room, swallowing nervously. “Only for reading,” he explained, gaze dropping back to the open book on the table. His fingers curled slightly.

“I should have guessed. You are a librarian after all,” she teased lightly, giving him a playful smile. But then she added more sincerely, “They’re quite charming.” Truly, they were. They suited him very well, somehow making him look even more handsome than usual.

Rowan gave her a wary look, seemingly uncomfortable with the compliment, or embarrassed, or both. Likely both. So Aelin didn’t say anything else about them and wandered over to her suitcase while he went back to studying his book once more. 

“Are you almost ready to go to dinner?” Aelin finally asked as she began pilfering through her suitcase for something to wear. When he didn’t answer, she glanced over her shoulder to find that confused look had returned to his face. “What’s wrong?” Dinner was forgotten for the moment as she strode over to join him at the table.

He shifted slightly in his seat as she leaned in, and ran his finger down the seam of the journal. “There’s a page missing.” Indeed, now that he had pointed it out, she could see the ripped edge peeking out between the other pages. “This page here is talking about some woman, she was the king’s consort or something similar. And when she died and they had to take her somewhere else to be buried.“

To be queen, or a consort, of a kingdom and not be buried there with her people? That sounded terribly sad. Unless the people didn’t like her. "Why was she buried elsewhere? Where was she buried?" 

He shook his head. "I don’t know. That’s the part that is missing. The next page talks of something completely different.”

“Who would do that?” she asked, brows drawing in concern. It left a sinking feeling in her gut. If someone had deliberately taken a page… It begged the question: what was so important about a long dead queen and where she was buried?

Rowan shook his head again, looking just as unsettled as she felt. “I don’t know,” he murmured softly.

Aelin’s eyes followed his fingers as they brushed over the lovely scrawl in the Old Language, and she was suddenly reminded of another book. One she had found in her father’s study when she was little, that she would always sneak and read so her father wouldn’t know. A faerie story about a queen who had died to protect the people she loved, written on the fragile, age-darkened pages of a worn leather book. Some of the words had been written in the Old Language. 

She had loved that story, even though it had always left her feeling sad. Even now, just thinking of it brought on a sort of echo of that melancholy.

Rowan leaned back in his chair and tilted his head to look up at her. Whether he sensed the shift in her thoughts or was simply wondering what she was thinking, she didn’t know. But his dark green eyes were so surprisingly soft and vulnerable as he gazed up at her that her heart fluttered strangely.

“We’ll figure it all out,” she promised, giving him a soft smile.

He blinked and quickly dropped his gaze, picking nervously at the corner of a page before he closed the book and stood. Much to Aelin’s amusement, she could have sworn there was a faint blush on his cheeks as he turned towards the door. “Are you ready to go to dinner?” he asked, voice coming out in a slight rush.

She watched carefully as he picked up his coat from where it lay draped across one of the armchairs. “I need to change first, but you can go on ahead.” 

Rowan nodded, pulling on his coat. He winced slightly, and Aelin rolled her eyes. Just as she had expected, he had been favoring his shoulder all day after sleeping on that stupid settee last night. She had some very colorful language in mind for telling him what she thought about his stubborn, and frankly stupid, sense of chivalry.

He muttered a quick goodbye and left the room. Leaving Aelin staring at the now closed door. She shook her head again and went back over to her suitcase, digging through her dresses for something suitable to wear when her fingers brushed against velvet. And an idea formed in her mind. 

The corners of her lips curled into a devious little smile. This was going to be fun. 

~*~*~

Rowan stared at the glass tumbler between his hands, his fingers skimming along the rim, turning it slightly. Light caught the facets of the carved crystal, causing the amber liquid within to glow golden, much like the golden core of a familiar pair of turquoise eyes that preoccupied way too many of his thoughts. 

Sighing heavily through his nose, Rowan lifted the glass of whiskey to his lips and drained it, hissing slightly as it burned his throat.

He didn’t know why Aelin Galathynius had this affect on him. Didn’t know why everything she said or did flustered him like he was some seventeen-year-old inexperienced teenager all over again. He had endured the attentions of many women before, and had talked and flirted with and bedded them with no trouble at all, but when he was around her… He had trouble even forming a coherent thought at times. Not even with Lyria- No he was not going to think about that again. 

The bartender walked by and Rowan motioned for him to pour him another. As the man poured his drink, Rowan found his eyes drifting towards the doors yet again. And cursed himself.

He was ridiculous, watching the door waiting for her to enter the room. He really was a- What had she called him? A buzzard? He felt like a _buzzard_ constantly watching for her.

With another heavy sigh, he scanned the room for the others. Elide, alongside Aedion and Lysandra -who were playing their part as a loving married couple-, were chatting animatedly with two young men, one with raven black hair and the other chestnut. 

Fenrys still had not returned.

When they had first entered the dining cabin, Fen had frozen mid-sentence, his eyes shooting to the bar with a look like he had been punched in the gut on his face. Rowan had followed his friend’s gaze to where three dark haired men sat. Two of them were the same men who had boarded the boat in front of them the day before, but the third… Bronze skin, curly, shoulder-length black hair and face Rowan recognized all too well. Fen’s twin brother. Connall Moonbeam. 

Connall had looked just as shocked to see Fenrys, and when Fen had asked him what the rutting hell he was doing there, the only information he would give was there for a job and that his employer would decide whether or not to reveal the details to them. 

Fen hadn’t liked that answer one bit. Nor had he liked it when Connall had turned the question back on him, asking what they were doing there, eyeing Lysandra and Elide curiously. Fenrys had stiffened, and then hauled his brother out of the room to have a little _brotherly talk_. Rowan hadn’t seen either one of them since.

A few seats down from where Rowan now sat at he bar, the two men from the day before, whom Connall had introduced as Vaughn Dakar and Lorcan Salvaterre, were sitting in silence, drinking much like Rowan himself. Aelin had been correct when she said he would have company to brood and commiserate with. 

Despite apparently being a man of few words, Vaughn had still seemed friendly, whereas Lorcan, who acknowledged them with little more than a cold stare and a grunt, just seemed completely uninterested in the lot of them. That is, until his night black eyes had landed on Elide. He had been glancing at the black-haired young woman ever since.

From somewhere across the room, the head waiter announced that dinner was about to be served and for everyone to please find a seat. 

Rowan drained his glass and stood. As he took a step, the doors of the dining cabin opened, and despite himself, Rowan immediately looked. But it was only Fenrys and Connall, finally returning. 

The black haired twin stalked towards the tables, but Fenrys came to Rowan, and the look in his dark eyes told Rowan that whatever he had to say was not going to be pleasant. Fen’s gaze flicked over Rowan’s shoulder to his brother’s companions, if they could be called that. Co-workers was probably a more accurate term. Lorcan and Vaughn were watching them with raised brows. 

“Later,” Fen murmured. Rowan nodded and the two went to take their seats. Rowan stopped behind a pair of empty chairs, one for him and one for his ‘wife’, as Fenrys plopped down into one a few seats down to Rowan‘s left, across from his brother. 

The young man Lysandra and Aedion had been speaking with earlier had already taken a seat across the table from Rowan. His bright blue eyes rose as Rowan approached and he gave him a friendly grin. “Hello. I’m Dorian.” 

“Rowan,” he replied, giving him a nod.

Dorian perked up slightly, “Ah, so you’re Mr. and Mrs. Ashryver’s friend. Is your wife not here yet?”

Rowan smiled, and it unnerved him how easily he slipped into the role of a doting husband, as he replied jokingly, “She’s still getting dressed. You know how some women are.”

“That I do,” Dorian laughed.

Just then, Rowan heard the doors opening again and he turned, half expecting to once again see some other random passenger. But it wasn’t.

Gliding into the room was Aelin, looking like a queen in a gown of black velvet that hugged every curve and dip of her figure like a glove. Rowan’s mouth went a little dry as his eyes trailed over her, heat flaring in his stomach. Delicate gold embroidery encircled the wrists of the tight black sleeves and wove along the neckline that sat just below her collarbones, like a necklace. Her hair was swept to one side and draped over her shoulder like a waterfall of molten gold. 

Her stunning turquoise and gold eyes scanned the room until they landed on him. And she smiled, and every thought flew out of his head as she began making her way towards him. He noticed then that the skirt of her gown was slit up to just above the knee, revealing a glimpse of her legs and the little black slippers on her feet as she walked. 

He couldn’t move, could barely breathe as she sidled up next to him, smiling up at him adoringly. It was only at that moment Rowan realized that he had stood back up at some point after she appeared. 

Aelin batted her eyes shyly and looped her left arm around his right elbow. “I’m sorry I’m late, my darling,” she crooned lightly, rising onto her tip toes to press a lingering kiss to his cheek. When she pulled away, his skin tingled where her lips had touched, and a different sort of warmth spread through his body. 

Rowan couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, and Aelin knew it too, because beneath the admiring expression, her eyes held a wicked little gleam, her lips tilted with a hint of a pleased smirk. He had to swallow hard a few times before he could find his voice enough to reply, “It’s fine.” But the words came out throaty and rough, and he wanted to cringe, his face burned. Aelin’s smile only grew.

Finally collecting himself enough to remember proper etiquette, Rowan stepped over behind the chair he had saved for her and gestured for her to sit. Aelin gave him another loving glance. “Thank you, darling,” she murmured sweetly, her voice midnight soft and Rowan honestly wondered if she were trying to kill him.

As she moved to take her seat, Rowan placed a hand on her back, not remembering what happened before until it was too late. Once again she stiffened, her expression tightening ever so slightly, but she didn’t flinch away as she had that day on the train. And there was now no doubt in Rowan’s mind that she had been lying before. But why?

As Aelin eased into the chair, Rowan’s fingertips skimmed lightly over her back, and he felt a slightly raised ridge beneath the velvet of her dress. He blinked in confusion, brows drawing together as he glanced down at her in alarm.

She just gave him another smile, but this time it didn’t reach her eyes, their brightness guttered, before she turned away, pointedly ignoring his questioning look. She instead glanced around at the other people sitting at the table. 

Rowan took his seat, and suddenly remembered that they were, in fact, not alone. His eyes scanned the table, seeing Lysandra and Aedion sharing amused looks as they watched from a few seats down. He felt a flare of annoyance when he realized that several of the men, and even a few of the women, were staring at Aelin with varying degrees of interest. Including Dorian.

The black haired young man ran his eyes over her appreciatively and then turned to Rowan, who was still sitting there looking rather dumbfounded, and mouthed 'worth it’ with a knowing smile.

Rowan managed to muster a weak smile in response, but it turned into a grunt when he felt an elbow jab into his side. He turned to Aelin, his brows drawing in irritation. “Wha-” he began, but then he saw the confusion in her eyes before she flicked her gaze further down the table, to Fenrys and Connall, before she gave him another questioning look. 

He leaned in until his mouth was a hairsbreadth from her ear, and like a husband whispering sweet nothings to his wife, he breathed, “Connall, Fenrys’s twin.”

When he moved back, Aelin looked even more confused and for some strange reason, he didn’t think it was because of Connall. But then she arched a golden brow, her eyes seeming to ask, _okay, but why is he here?_

Rowan shook his head slightly. _I don’t know_. She pursed her lips in thought, clearly feeling the same uneasiness about it as he did.

Dinner was served then, and the hall became filled with hum of voices and laughter and the clinking of silverware on plates. Everyone taking up friendly conversations with the others seated next to them. Everyone, except for Rowan.

He was silent as he ate, but he kept finding his eyes drifting to the woman at his right as she chatted amicably with the lady sitting beside her. It was probably strange that he wasn’t speaking to her as they dined. If they were married, he should be talking to his wife, right?

Rowan swallowed the bite of chicken he was chewing and turned to her. She immediately noticed his attention, and turned to him expectantly, as if she had been waiting. He cleared his throat. “That dress looks very nice on you.” A lie. It was stunning and every time he glanced down and saw the way it hugged her figure it felt his face heat again. Along with the rest of his body. 

She smirked up at him, “I know." 

He quickly averted his gaze and picked up his glass, taking a drink of the cool liquid and wishing it was something a lot stronger than water. 

Aelin picked up her own drink, pursing her lips as she glanced down at the dress ruefully. "I love it, but the fabric is so finicky it shows every wrinkle. I had to forgo undergarments tonight.” 

Rowan inhaled sharply, his knee banging painfully into the underside of the table, as his water went down the wrong way. Their dinner companions all stared in alarm as he broke into a fit of coughing. 

Aelin patted his back gently. “Oh, are you alright, darling?” Her voice was the epitome of loving concern, but when he glanced at her in dismay, her eyes were alight with utter amusement. 

He waved off the concern when the others began asking if he was alright, continuing to try and clear the water from his throat. When he was fairly certain he had successfully averted drowning himself, he turned to Aelin and hissed, "Will you _stop that_?”

“Stop what?” she asked innocently, batting her eyes. Gods above. Her lips curled at the corners. “Are you afraid of me, Mr. Whitethorn?" 

The same damn question from the night before, when she had strutted out in that gods damned nightgown. He did not need that image in his head right now. He glowered at her and grit out through clenched teeth, "The only thing I’m afraid of are your manners.”

She just kept giving him that wicked little smirk, her eyes alight with a look that said she knew he was full of it.

Rowan fell back into his sullen silence after that, focusing on keeping a level head, smiling when the conversation called for it as Aelin began regaling the people sitting around them with tales of their love affair and how they had met. About their 'wedding’ a few days ago.

He cast his glance about the room again, noting a brown haired man slipping out the doors across the dining hall. He nearly startled when Aelin reached over and touched his hand with hers, having not been expecting it. Rowan looked down at her to find her gazing up at him though her lashes, a shy smile on her face. 

And even though it hurt, Rowan tried to think of the little gestures of affection that he had seen pass between his parents when they were alive. Recalling one, Rowan caught her hand with his, wrapping his fingers around her smaller hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, brushing his thumb across the back of her knuckles. Aelin’s eyes widened, darting back up to his. She looked almost nervous as he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of her fingers as he held her gaze.

It could have been a trick of the light, or the cosmetics she wore, but… for a heartbeat, as his lips touched her skin, he could have swore that her face flushed slightly. That she was holding her breath. 

After that she grew quieter, placing her hand in her lap. She didn’t tease him any more.

Eventually, as they were wrapping up desert, Aelin struck up another conversation with the blue eyed man sitting across from them. “So what brings you on this voyage, Dorian?”

Ignoring the warning look from the brown haired man beside him, Rowan thought he said his name was Chaol, Dorian gave them a conspiratorial wink, “Oh, we’re looking for the lost city of Myrkur." 

~*~

"So, Myrkur?” Aelin asked with forced lightness. She sipped her wine slowly, lady-like, even though what she really wanted was a large tankard of Terrasen’s strongest whiskey to guzzle down. “Isn’t that place just a fairy tale?" 

Dorian laughed, running a hand through his short black hair. “I thought so too, but then I learned the city actually existed.” 

Aelin nodded, keeping up her mask of polite interest, even as her mind was a churning storm of panic and questions. Another party headed to Myrkur. Gods, this introduced, quite literally, an entire boatload of new complications for their plans. A second party would draw every eye between here and the desert. The cover she had crafted for their anonymity, the plan for getting them to Myrkur while remaining as unnoticed as possible… Was ruined. Destroyed. Set on fire and thrown out of the window into the swirling waters of the Bogdano River behind them. 

No. No, it wasn’t ruined. She just needed time to think about what drawbacks and advantages this new development might provide. Sure, their lie would make things awkward when the truth inevitably came out, that was unavoidable now, but it could be dealt with. 

But what were the odds of another party ending up on the exact same boat as them? And at the same time? And this young man, Dorian, could he have been her former employer? 

She shifted her eyes to the man sitting next to her. Rowan was perched between her and Dorian, his gaze shifting between the two of them as they spoke. He had handled the news of the other party much better than she would have expected, the only outward sign of his surprise was the slight quirking of a brow. But she wasn’t fool enough to believe he was unbothered by it.

He studied her face for a long moment, as if he could see right through her to where she was frantically searching for a way to salvage the quickly fraying edges of their plans. His jaw feathered and then he turned to Dorian, asking him some question to give Aelin a moment to collect her thoughts. 

Aelin shot him a grateful look. She could still barely focus on what they were saying, but the deep baritone of Rowan’s voice, his accent rich and lilting, soothed the edges of her nerves. His presence at her side was strangely comforting, calming. 

As she gazed up at him, she let her eyes take in his strong profile, the rugged planes of his face. His sharp jawline, the slope of his nose, the curve of his lips. Her stomach gave a little flutter. She could still feel those lips against her knuckles, the tingling warmth still spreading up her arm. She was acutely aware of the heat radiating off of his body with how close together they were sitting, and Aelin found herself wanting to lean in closer. 

Aelin blinked and tore her gaze away from Rowan’s mouth, scanning the rest of the dining hall. 

Several of the passengers had gathered around one of the dining tables to play rounds of poker. Unsurprisingly, Lys and Elide where right in the middle of it, swindling the poor unsuspecting men out of their hard earned coin. Elide appeared to have earned the most of the two, and apparently the high regard of the tall, broody fellow from the docks. Lorcan, she believed his name was. The man’s harsh features were lined with amusement and interest as he watched Elide.

"My father actually sent a party to Myrkur a few months ago.” 

Aelin nearly choked with the force of her heart leaping into her throat, her eyes snapping back around to stare at Dorian. Dorian’s father. Aelin was willing to bet every speck of gold she had ever found that he was her former employer. It was too big a coincidence. 

Rowan shot her a glance, his own eyes wide and questioning. 

“The expedition did not go as planned, most of the men died in a horrible accident,” he went on, not noticing how her mouth tightened into a hard line as he asked for another drink. "One of the men made it back, though. He’s guiding us back to the ruins.”

Aelin’s grip on her wine glass tightened, and she was surprised it didn’t shatter in her hand. Another person had made it back. She had thought she was the only one. If it were true, surely they had told Old Dorian about the attack. But this Dorian… 

His face was the picture of carefree, his sapphire eyes bright with the excitement of going on some grand adventure. There was no doubt in her mind that he truly through whatever had befallen the previous group was an accident. If his father knew the truth and was still sending him into that danger… It made her stomach turn.

“That sounds very exciting,” Rowan said, giving Dorian an easy smile. “I hope you find what you’re searching for.”

Dorian nodded in thanks, sitting his glass back on the bar. “Thank you, Rowan. As do I.”

Biting her lip, Aelin glanced up at Rowan. He met her gaze and nodded ever so slightly. It was time to go. Aelin covered her mouth, feigning a yawn before turning to Rowan. “Darling, are you ready to go? I’m getting awfully tired and a lady needs her beauty sleep.”

Rowan plastered a smile on his face. “Yes, it is getting quite late.”

They stood to leave and Dorian followed suit, shaking Rowan’s hand again and politely bowing over her own. “I can assure you, Mrs. Whitethorn, I have eyes and for you, beauty sleep is not necessary.”

Next to her, Rowan seemed to stiffen a bit, but she couldn’t help the grin that tugged at her lips. This one was a natural born charmer. “Careful, sir. You’re lady love back home would not be very pleased to learn you’re charming a married woman.” 

“No,” he laughed heartily. “She wouldn’t.”

Aelin looped her arm through Rowan’s. “It was very lovely to meet you, Dorian. I hope we get to speak with you again soon.”

He smiled widely, “Likewise. And worry not, you have until Yurpa to enjoy my pleasant company.”

Well that was one thing they had in their favor, at least. If they were heading to Yurpa, arguably the most conspicuous place to set out from, where there were most likely to be eyes watching, it would take some of the attention off of their own party when they departed at Ieva.

This time, a genuine smile tugged at her lips. “Wonderful.” She looked up at Rowan and was surprised to find him glowering slightly. What was that about? Before Dorian could notice, she yawned again, “Excuse me.” She flicked her eyes up at Rowan with a grin, nudging his shoulder with hers. “This one kept me awake all night with his snoring.”

Rowan’s brows shot up at the lie and he turned that glower on her then, his face flushing slightly. 

“I’m sure it was only snoring that kept you up,” Dorian teased, his eyes bright with amusement as he gave them both a knowing look. 

At the insinuation, the color in Rowan‘s cheeks darkened, but Aelin let another genuine laugh. As they turned to leave, Rowan still blushing furiously, Aelin threw a parting wink at Dorian, before she and Rowan ambled out the doors. 

~*~*~

The others had been watching and met them a few minutes later outside the dining cabin where he and Aelin were waiting. Aedion, Lysandra and Elide were shocked to learn about the other hunting party, but the news was no surprise to Fenrys. Apparently, that was what he had been trying to tell Rowan after he returned from talking with his brother.

Rowan could see Aelin’s mind still working through all of the new developments, trying to assess how everything was going to affect their plans going forward. She had looked as if the floor had vanished from beneath her feet when Dorian’s had said he was going to Myrkur, and Rowan had done his best to appear as level headed and calm as possible for her sake, even though he was panicking on the inside.

When Aedion asked what they were going to do now Aelin sighed heavily, scrubbing her face with her. “We’ll figure it out later. There’s still almost a week until we arrive at Ieva.” 

They left it at that for now. Fenrys and Lysandra and Aedion departed then, heading back to their rooms on the other side of the ship while Elide, Rowan and Aelin made towards theirs near the rear of the boat.

Aelin was quiet, wrapping her arms around herself as they walked, the only sound the lapping of the river against the sides of the boat. 

Rowan watched her carefully. Even though he knew the yawning earlier had been an act, she truly looked exhausted now. He worried his bottom lip, wishing there was something he could do. 

“Who do you think is leading them?” he finally asked, keeping his voice soft so it didn‘t echo down the empty hall. 

Those turquoise and gold eyes flashed to him. “I don’t know. I thought- I really thought I was the only one who made it out.” 

That was a detail that was troubling her deeply. It made his chest ache each time he recalled the devastation and the haunted look in her eyes when she mentioned the attack, all those lives that were lost. Much like the look that was dimming her eyes now. 

“We’ll figure it out,” Rowan replied softly, echoing the words she had spoken to him earlier, when he had discovered the missing pages in his journal. She smiled at him, and it did strange things to his stomach. Her velvet clad shoulder brushed against his arm, and Rowan was acutely ware of the touch, could feel the warmth of it even though his jacket.

Elide tilted her head, her dark eyes glinting in the light of the lanterns hanging outside the rooms they passed.. “So I guess the marriage cover was a bit pointless,” she mused quietly, voicing a thought that Rowan himself had already been thinking. 

To his surprise, Aelin shook her head. “No, we can still use it to our advantage. For a little while at least. It will keep attention off of us for the interim, but yes, once we set out for Myrkur-” There was a gasp from somewhere behind them and Aelin halted, her eyes widening in outrage before she turned to look behind them.

Rowan turned more slowly, scanning the hall with narrowed eyes but there was no one in sight. He glanced down at Aelin and blinked in surprise when he saw that she had drawn a dagger that she had somehow kept hidden despite how that godsdamned dress clung to her. Even Elide was now clutching a knife, hiding it in the folds of her violet skirt.

“Wha-” Rowan began, but Aelin lifted a hand to silence him, her eyes locked on a doorway set back in an alcove a few meters behind them. In the shadows of that alcove, Rowan could have swore he saw something move. 

Her expression shifted then, smoothed into a look of calmness that belied the violence in her eyes. “Wait here,” she purred.

Before either he could say a word, she was already halfway down the hall, her black-slippered feet silent as death as she prowled closer to the doorway, Elide right on her heels. Quicker than anyone had a right to be, she lashed out. There was a startled yelp as she grabbed whoever was hiding around that corner and spun, her golden hair flying behind her, as she hauled a man out of the shadows and slammed him up against the wall, her knife against his throat. 

Rowan let out a cry of alarm, staggering forward a step. To do what, he wasn’t entirely sure, maybe pull her off of the man, but he halted when the man gasped out, “C-Celaena.” 

Realization dawned. This man knew her, and not as a friend, but a hunter. And they had clearly not parted on good terms. Rowan looked at him then, really looked. He was tall, not nearly as tall as Rowan himself but he still enough to tower over Aelin. He had light brown hair that nearly brushed his shoulders and light blue eyes that were gazing down at the woman before him with a look of abject terror.

Aelin sneered up at him in distaste, her eyes holding a promise of violence. “Hello Cairn,” she purred, her voice sickly sweet and dripping with venom, “I bet you thought you’d seen the last of me, didn’t you?” 

“Y-you‘re alive!” He stammered, chin trembling, “I-I-I was so- worried that those riders had gotten you, I-” His words cut off as Aelin pressed her blade a bit harder against his throat. He gagged and a dribble of blood ran down into the collar of his shirt. 

She smiled coyly. “Really?” Her fist tightened on his collar and she yanked him away from the wall, keeping her dagger pressed to his neck as she turned and backed him towards the deck railing behind them. “You didn’t seem nearly so worried when you slammed that door in my face and left me to die.”

A deafening silence filled Rowan’s head.

“What?” Elide hissed, gripping her knife tighter. Rowan thought she looked as if she were about to lunge for Cairn herself.

Aelin’s words slowly sank in, and Rowan’s blood began to boil, his hands curling into fists at his sides. This bastard had _left_ her? Had literally blocked the only door to safety and left her to be slaughtered like the rest of their group.

Cairn’s blue eyes shifted, as if he had only just realized they weren’t alone, and when they landed on Rowan, he looked as if he might piss himself.

“So I guess you’re the one who is leading Dorian and the others to Myrkur, I should have known. Are you going to abandon them too? Maybe I should warn him about you.” Aelin tilted her head, as if in contemplation, her eyes trailing over the man. When her gaze returned to his, they were full of disgust. “Or maybe I should just kill you and save them the trouble.” She angled the knife as if she were about to slit his throat, and Cairn whimpered. 

Rowan wouldn’t have tried to stop her if she had.

But Aelin didn’t kill him. Instead she asked with genuine curiosity, “How did they convince a weasel like you to go back, anyway?”

Cairn whined again, “The old man found me and said I had to lead another group. Said his son would be coming to oversee everything this time. If I didn’t he…” he trailed off, looking nauseous. He swallowed and his throat bobbed dangerously against the still angled blade, and his voice was barely above a whisper when he continued, “I don’t get paid until I get them all back to Rifthold.”

A wickedly delighted smile lit up Aelin’s face. “Tough break, _friend_.” She withdrew her knife and released Cairn, and Rowan was surprised to find he was disappointed she hadn’t made the man suffer longer.

Aelin sheathed her knife back under the skirt of her dress and Cairn sighed in relief, seeming to think the danger was over. “Just make sure you stay the hell away from us or this time you won’t make it out of that desert,” she promised darkly and Cairn paled at her words. 

She turned away, as if she was going to join him and Elide once more, and Rowan couldn’t believe she was actually letting him go so easily. But Elide was watching Aelin closely, her dark eyes bright. 

That was when Aelin paused, arching a brow. She spun back around and her fist connected with Cairn’s nose with a satisfying crunch that had him stumbling backwards. He flipped over the railing and hit the dark waters below with a loud screech. 

Rowan darted forward to look over the railing. He watched as Cairn spluttered curses at them, trying to stay above the water. 

Aelin didn’t spare the man another glance. She simply turned back in the direction of their rooms, and as she strode past Rowan, he heard her mutter, “He can float.”

~*~

As the door to their room clicked closed behind her, Aelin looked back at Rowan, and blinked at the grin on his face. 

He was laughing. Other than snarky remarks, it was the first semblance of humor she had seen from him, and it gave her a strange, pleasant feeling in her stomach. She wanted to comment on it, but she was afraid he would close off again, like he had earlier with the journal and she wasn‘t ready for that smile to vanish just yet. 

So she set about getting dressed for bed, removing the pins from her hair and washing her face. All the while, she kept an eye on Rowan, drinking in the sight of that smile. She was right about that smile, it made him absolutely devastating.

He was still grinning as he sat on the side of the bed, removing his shoes, and she could resist the temptation no longer. “Why Mr. Whitethorn, you do have a sense of humor.” Just as expected, the expression immediately vanished, his brow furrowing into its usual scowl. But Aelin kept grinning at him as she snatched up a nightgown and robe out of her bag, and as she ducked behind the changing blind she saw the smile return to his face.

Of course it disappeared again when she stepped back out into the room, pulling her black robe over the nightgown of pale pink lace she now wore. He averted his gaze, that charming blush coloring his cheeks as he went to change himself.

When he emerged, he didn’t look her way, and instead set about remaking the settee to sleep on. She tried not to let the fact that he felt the need to be as far away from her as possible bother her, but it hurt. And it was a sting to her pride.

She watched him put out the lamps about the room and settle onto the small couch, shifting uncomfortable as his shoulder ached. “You can sleep in the bed you know. I don’t mind,” she said quietly. “There’s room enough for the both of us.”

“Here is fine,” he replied roughly. 

Aelin rolled her eyes. “Will you stop being so stubborn? Your back is already hurting, I’ve seen you favoring your shoulder all day. And if you sleep on that thing all week, you wont be able to move and you’ll be useless when we get to Myrkur.”

Rowan grumbled and huffed quietly, but then, surprisingly, he sat up. Sighing in defeat, he muttered something in another language under his breath and stood. 

Hardly daring to breath, Aelin watched as he collected his pillow and blanket before he trudged over to the opposite side of the bed. Mouth drawn in a frown and still not looking at her, he climbed in and Aelin nearly laughed as he settled on the very edge of the bed, as far from her as he could possibly get without falling onto the floor. 

“You can snuggle closer than that, you know. I don’t bite.” Aelin grinned widely, waggling her brows at him, “Unless you ask me to.”

Through gritted teeth he hissed back, “I’m fine.”

Humor vanishing, she made a face of annoyance. “Don’t be an idiot. You’re going to fall off if you move an inch. We’re both adults, you don’t have to be so scandalized.”

Rowan didn’t reply and he stayed right where he was, but she could hear him mumbling in that language again.

Scowling at the back of his silver head, Aelin muttered, “Fine.” And without another word, she rolled over to face the other way and waited for sleep to claim her. 

~*~

Aelin startled awake with a small gasp, her heart thundering in her chest. Slowly, so very slowly, her senses caught up to the realization that she was no longer asleep. 

That dream. It was a familiar dream, one she had had many times when she was a younger. About that faerie tale, the northern queen with golden hair and citrine eyes. 

But it was… different this time. 

Tears had stained the queen’s face, her king holding her as he too wept and she pressed her lips to his temple. Sorrowful whispered words passed between them. _I must be the one… The lock… No no no…_ He begged and begged but she had not relented. And then, as if every movement pained him to his very bones, he pressed something small and golden into her hand.

She had had this dream before, but the crying, a _lock_ … none of that had ever been part of it. And it had never been so vivid, had never felt so… real. It had never left her heart aching in her chest as if it had been cleaved in two.

It was less like a dream and more like… a memory.

A dream. It was just a dream. Likely brought on by her thinking about that book and that story earlier in the day. 

Pulse still pounding in her veins, Aelin cast her sleep-bleary gaze about the darkened room, and her heartbeat quickened again. This time for a different reason. Each breath was shallower than the one before, until she found the thin shaft of moonlight filtering into the room through a gap in the curtains. Her breathing came easier as she recalled where she was, and who she was with. 

The moonlight seeping in through the window fell across the other half of the bed and she let her eyes follow it, sweeping along the male body lying beside hers.

Rowan was still sound asleep, his broad chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm with each breath, completely unaware of her waking. Aelin blinked as she realized that he had moved closer. He was still as far away as the bed would allow, but he was no longer half-falling off of the mattress. 

His handsome face was slightly tilted towards her, his features more relaxed than she had ever seen before. A strand of his silvery white hair had fallen across his cheek and she couldn’t help but watch as it trembled before his slightly parted lips.

As she watched him, Aelin felt a calm settle over her, a warmth washing through her and chasing away the unease of that dream that had still nipped at her. She shifted on the bed, turning towards the man sleeping next to her and curling onto her side. And Aelin let the steady rhythm of his breathing lull her back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long. The dinner scenes gave me so much trouble and it threw a wrench into the rest of the chapter.  
> I also went back and did some minor edits in the previous chapters. 
> 
> And I'd like to give a big thank you to everyone who has commented or left a kudos so far. You have no idea how much it means to me and inspires me to keep working.


	6. Complications

The trip down the Bogdano River was, for the most part, uneventful. Between going over all of the possible ways the other group’s presence could affect their own mission, and the strange dreams each night, Aelin spent most of her time teasing Rowan, finding it adorable how flustered he would get and his blush to be eternally charming. 

The only real occurrence of note had been on the fifth afternoon, when the boat had stopped in a port town to drop off some passengers and a woman with vibrant red hair had boarded with two female guards. To no one’s surprise, Fenrys was immediately taken with her. Other than that, they mostly kept to themselves. They still conversed with Dorian whenever they saw him, usually at dinner or the occasional stroll. After the _unfortunate_ incident on deck, they were all blessed to not see Cairn again, only aware that someone had bothered to fish him out of the river thanks to Dorian casually mentioning he had become jumpier than usual. 

Of all of them, Fenrys interacted with the other group most often, thanks to his brother, and he kept Aelin and Rowan well informed on what he gleaned of their plans. Apparently Dorian’s group was under the impression they were looking for general treasure, gold and jewels and relics and the like. But Aelin knew it was a lie. That, or they had been left in the dark about the true motive, because Old Dorian had wanted the Book of Wyrd, obviously badly enough that he was willing to send another group that included his own son despite what had befallen the previous one. 

It was a lot to think about. But at the moment, Aelin had more important matters to occupy her thoughts. Like the delightfully warm water she was currently soaking in. 

With a moan, Aelin sank lower into the copper tub, reclining her head against the raised lip. She draped her forearms languidly along the sides and propped her feet up on the opposite end, her legs from the knees down visible above the water’s surface. The lavender scented soaps filled her senses, relaxing and calming and lulling her into a sleepy haze. 

The door knob rattled and Aelin cast a lazy glance towards the door as it opened and Rowan strode in. His eyes landed on her and he instantly turned beet red, averting his gaze. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were taking a bath.”

Smirking, she laid her head back again. “Come now, Mr. Whitethorn, I know you’ve seen plenty of naked women. What’s one more? No need to be bashful about it.” She nearly laughed when she heard him grumble under his breath.

His footsteps crossed the room, and he was silent for a few minutes. But then his rough voice asked, “Where did you even find a tub?” 

She peeked at him though her lashes and found him standing before his travel bag, but his eyes were on her bare legs. Fighting a grin, she lifted her right leg, extending it slightly into the air and crossing it over the other. She wiggled her toes. Rowan’s eyes shot nervously up to hers, the color on his cheeks darkening, and she did smile then. 

“They have tubs on hand for the wealthier patrons to use, so I bribed some of the cooks to find me one and boil some water,” she explained, laughter in her voice. Sinking further into the tub, she sighed, “And it is _divine_.” 

He turned away, shoulders tense as he dug through his bag and he didn’t respond. Aelin watched him from beneath heavy lidded eyes. As if he could feel her gaze, he looked up, mouth set in a hard line. 

“You could join me,” she offered sultrily, grazing her teeth over her bottom lip; never mind the that the two of them would never fit, even if he _did_ accept. “It will likely be the last chance you have to take a bath before we reach the desert.”

Rowan blushed furiously and yanked a shirt out of his bag, quickly disappearing behind the changing blind. “I’ll take one later,” he called back, voice gruff. “I only came to change.”

She stuck her tongue out in his general direction. “Your loss,” she muttered, closing her eyes again. 

A silence fell behind the blind. There was no hint of movement for several long heartbeats, and then she heard him take a few heavy steps and halt. When he didn’t say anything else, her curiosity got the better of her and she lifted her head. And Aelin sat bolt upright in the tub, her eyes widening. 

Rowan stood next to the changing blind. The blush was gone, his brows were drawn together in annoyance, and he was completely bare from the waist up.

Almost involuntarily, her eyes dragged down his bare torso, and her mouth went a little dry as drank in those broad shoulders, the arms chorded with muscle, his defined abdomen and muscled chest. He had the build of a warrior, like those sculptures of gods she had seen before in ruins. But then her eyes caught on a jagged scar that slashed down his right pectoral, and her heart nearly stopped. There was another curving around his right forearm. 

Where had he gotten those? Something in her chest twisted at the thought of him being hurt. 

So very slowly, her gaze lifted back up to his. 

Something flashed in his dark green eyes and he began prowling towards the tub with the determination of a hawk circling its prey. With each step that brought him closer, her heart beat quickened until it was thundering against her rib cage. And then he was towering over her, and the look in his eyes had her own face heating. 

He braced his hands against the rim of the tub on either side of her shoulders and leaned in until his lips were barely a hairsbreadth from hers. 

Aelin’s breathing became ragged, shallow, as every nerve in her body lit up, alive and singing and acutely aware of how close he was to her. Rowan’s own, surprisingly steady, breaths puffed over her face, warming her lips and sending little tingles washing across her skin. Her eyes immediately fell to his mouth, and as if on instinct, her own lips parted slightly. She felt herself start to lean in, to close that distance between them, eyes fluttering closed in anticipation, but somehow she managed to stop herself. 

She blinked rapidly. Swallowing nervously, Aelin lifted her eyes back to his. Rowan was studying her face intently, the green of his eyes darker than normal. There was a glint in their depths, a spark of wildness, like ice and untamed wind beneath all that calm surface. And a hint of teasing. 

Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing. And exactly what he was doing to her. Aelin didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or curse his name. Didn’t know if she would, even if she could find her voice to do so.

Her eyes darted nervously to his lips again, and with a start, she realized that she _wanted_ him to kiss her. So badly she could barely stand it, so badly she could hardly breathe. She wanted to taste his lips again, to feel the softness of them against her own once more. To feel them all over…

Rowan dropped his gaze to her mouth, as if he were contemplating it, and for a heartbeat, she wondered if he had read what she wanted on her face. Aelin’s breath caught in her chest. But instead of closing the distance between them, he lifted his eyes slowly back to hers and he smirked. “You wouldn’t know what to do with me, Miss Galathynius,” he whispered, voice rough and taunting. 

Heat flared through her core, fire sparking in her blood and racing through her veins, so hot she was surprise it didn’t boil the tub dry. 

He pulled back then, standing to his full height once more. With that same little satisfied smile on his lips, he turned away, tugging on the shirt that had apparently been grasped in his hand the entire time. As he reached the door, he murmured over his shoulder, “I’ll see you at dinner, _darling_.” And then he vanished out of the room, the door closing behind him with a soft click. 

The sound echoed through in her bones. An emptiness settled inside her with the loss of his presence in the room. Still staring after the man who was now long gone, Aelin let out a little whimper of frustration and sank back down into the tub, feeling completely unnerved and a little terrified at her reaction, of the effect he had had on her. 

Because all too late, she realized, she had begun to fall for the brooding librarian.

~*~ 

Aelin was alone at the bar, sipping at a glass of whiskey as she watched Rowan from beneath her lashes. Just as she had all night. 

She had endured countless sly glances from Lysandra all through dinner, each time her brown haired friend had caught her staring at Rowan. Or, more specifically, at his mouth. She couldn’t help it, each time he drank or spoke, her eyes had darted to his lips, recalling how close they had been to hers just hours earlier.

Rowan was currently across the room, sitting at a table near where the others were once again playing cards, speaking with one of the other passengers. He smiled slightly at something the man had said, causing Aelin’s stomach to flip, and then lifted his glass to his mouth. 

Immediately, her eyes dropped again, tracking each little movement. The way his lips fit to the glass, how his throat bobbed as he drank, and then when his tongue darted out over his bottom lip after the small remnant of moisture as he sat the glass back on the table before him.

Aelin hadn’t realized she had even lifted her hand until she felt her fingernails pressing into her own lips. Quickly, she shook herself, dropping her gaze, and her hands, onto bar before her. She tugged at the fitted cuff of her sleeve nervously before reaching down to smooth away a nonexistent wrinkle in the skirt of her dark emerald dress. 

After a few heartbeats, she risked another glance across the room and found Lysandra eyeing her again. A purely feline smirk plastered across her lovely face as her green eyes flitted between Aelin and Rowan. Aelin leveled a scowl at her and she went back to helping Elide school Dorian, Connall, Lorcan and Vaughn at cards, Dorian’s friend Chaol watching disapprovingly. She blinked in surprise when she noticed the looks passing between Elide and Lorcan, the younger girl’s dark eyes brighter than Aelin had ever seen before as she flashed him the tiniest of smiles.

It made her think of another smile, her eyes seeking out the owner of that smile of their own accord, only to find him already watching her curiously. She quickly looked away, heart beating a little faster than normal.

Fenrys was sitting at the other end of the bar, attempting to woo to the stunning redhead that had boarded the boat the day before. The lady in question, Vesta, just gave him a coy smile and sashayed away, slipping out of the room while Fenrys stared after her in disappointment. 

Blessedly, her two companions didn’t appear to be present this evening. But then again, the two were like shadows, and had an uncanny ability to go so unnoticed that you didn’t even know they were there until they were upon you. Aelin supposed that made them exceptional choices for guards, but it was unnerving all the same.

Shaking her head at Fenrys‘s failed attempts to have company for the evening, Aelin lifted her glass and found her eyes drifting across the room to Rowan yet again…

“Enjoying the view?”

Aelin nearly choked on her whiskey as Fenrys voice came from mere inches away. She coughed lightly, patting her chest as she looked up at him. His golden curls were tied back in a knot at the back of his head, a few errant strands escaping to frame his gorgeous face in what should have been an enticing way. But now… “What?” she gasped out.

Fenrys gave her a knowing little smirk, his gaze flicking towards Rowan. But instead of pressing _that_ issue, his expression became more serious. “I want to apologize to you… about before.” Aelin blinked, arching a brow in surprise. She knew exactly what he meant. “I should have said something to you before now, I know. But I… I really am sorry for getting you arrested.”

He looked so upset with himself over it, his brows drawn together in concern and his dark eyes shining and hopeful that she would forgive him. He reminded her so much of an over grown puppy that she said, “I know.” He nodded, the hopeful expression falling slightly as he dropped his head, staring down at his hands clasped on the bar before him. 

Aelin pursed her lips, drumming her nails on the sides of her whiskey glass, causing a little echoing tinkle, like little bells to reverberate up out of the glass. After a moment she smirked, leaning forward to whisper playfully, “Honestly, it’s not the worst thing that’s happened to me by a long shot.” 

Fenrys chuckled, “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

She jabbed him in the side with her elbow. “Watch yourself, moon moon. I’m still not happy that you tried to sleep with me just to steal from me.” The face he made when he heard her nickname for him had her snorting with laughter that he soon joined in with. “Do you make it a point to try and seduce everyone you pickpocket, Mr. Moonbeam, or was I just an exception?

“No, I don’t. And please, call me Fenrys.” He gave her that charming grin of his, the one that had had her so ready to fall into bed with him that night. At that other bar. It seemed so long ago now, and things were so very different… 

“Alright, _Fenrys_ ,” she conceded with a smirk.

He leaned forward, resting on his elbows. “If it’s any consolation,” he began, voice low, “I was really looking forward to a night with you.” He glanced up at her from beneath his lashes, a glint in his onyx eyes. 

Aelin shrugged slightly, “Missed opportunity.” She downed the rest of her drink and tapped the rim with a finger to signal the barkeep for another. 

As the amber liquid swirled into her tumbler, Fen leaned in a little closer, his voice a husky whisper, “We could always try agai-”

Her hand came up between them, her fingers halting his mouth before it could get any closer, but she gave him a sweet smile. “I don’t sleep with my employers, I’m afraid.” She scrunched up her nose, “Such a pity.”

A wide grin broke out on Fen’s face as he laughed, shaking his head. 

Still smiling, Aelin let her gaze drift over the room again, searching for that familiar head of silver hair, but Rowan was no where to be seen. Disappointment flooded her, wiping the smile from her lips. When she turned back to Fen, he was giving her that damn smirk again, the same one Lysandra and Elide kept tossing her way. 

He lifted his glass to his lips, “You just keep telling yourself that, Aelin.” 

~*~*~

Rowan dropped unceremoniously into a chair at the little table in his room, letting out a heavy sigh. Gods, what was wrong with him? He felt like he had been punched in the gut. 

Running a hand through his hair roughly, he let out another deep breath. 

The truth was, he knew exactly what was wrong.

She had looked lovely tonight, wearing that dark green dress. The low neckline and the flowing skirt was very flattering to her figure, and the way she had her hair pinned back, revealing her elegant neck… 

He scrubbed his face roughly with his hands. 

Rowan had lost count of how many times he had found himself staring at her again tonight. Especially at her lips, every time she spoke or took a sip of her dink.

Earlier had been a grave mistake. As soon as he walked in and saw her in that bathtub he should have turned right around and walked back out the door. 

He didn’t know why, but that little mutter of hers had gotten under his skin worse than all the teasing he had endured over the past six days combined, and he had just… reacted. He didn’t know what he had wanted, other than to prove that he could give as good as she gave. 

But now he was paying for it.

He dragged a hand down his face and rubbed absently at his mouth.

The memory of how her lips had felt against his was back at the forefront of his mind. It was all he could think about. Her lips, soft and warm. Even days later he could still feel the whisper of them against his own, could feel her tongue brush against his. He wanted to feel it again. 

And with the way she had looked at him earlier as he leaned over her…

“Fuck,” he breathed harshly, eyes glancing around the empty room. They focused on the bed, still rumpled from the night before, but he really didn’t see anything.

He had seen her flirting with Fenrys. Of course he knew Aelin had liked Fenrys in some capacity, she had been intending to climb into bed with him when they first met after all, before Fen had stolen from her. But as he had watched them lean towards each other, her laughing at whatever Fen had said, something had twisted so painfully in his chest he could scarcely breath. 

So he had left, unable to stand watching anymore, and returned to the room, dread coiling in his gut as the memory of her smile directed at someone else taunted him. He didn’t know why it all bothered him so badly, why he cared so much. But somewhere along the way, over the past few days, the lines had started to blur and he found himself feeling drawn to her.

Aelin was fire made flesh and just as wild, and he was a moth drawn to her flame. Even when she was sitting still, she was captivating. Brilliant and wickedly funny, passionate about everything, and even with her relentless teasing, which had become strangely endearing, he found himself enjoying her company immensely. Often times he sought her out, his eyes instinctively finding her even from across the room. 

Rowan bit the inside of his lip, drumming his fingers on the table. The truth was, he knew exactly what was wrong with him. But if he voiced it out loud, even in his own mind, it made it all much too real and there would be no going back. And he wasn’t sure if he was ready for that again.

With another heavy breath, he pushed himself to his feet and went over to his bag to find his journal. He needed a distraction. So he found the spot where he had left off and began reading again, barely registering the words. His thoughts still occupied with Aelin and avoiding what all these feelings meant.

It was nearly a half hour later when she wandered into the room, closing the door quietly behind her. And by then, all the things he had been fighting with all evening had begun to get the better of him.

“I wondered where you had gotten too,” she murmured softly as she made her way over to the vanity, pulling bejeweled pins from her hair as she walked. Her tone more subdued than usual, much as it had all night. If Rowan hadn’t know any better he would have thought she sounded nervous. 

He merely grumbled in response, cursing himself as he began glancing up at her through his lashes. 

Aelin worried her lip, dropping her gaze. She sighed and dropped the hair pins into her vanity bag, shaking her golden waves now that they were free . 

Rowan couldn’t look away, transfixed. “I just didn’t feel like putting up with the crowd any longer,” he supplied quietly. 

“Yes,” she agreed, digging one of her ridiculous nightgowns out of her bag. As she disappeared behind the blind to change into her night clothes she added, “It was rather busy still, even when I left.”

The lamp on the wall behind the blind brightened, and he could see her shadow moving behind the screen as she removed her dress. 

His pulse spiked, and he tore his eyes away, staring at the pages of his journal but still seeing her silhouette moving behind his eyelids. He shifted in his chair. “I’m surprised you’re back so soon,” he tried to sound nonchalant but sounded hoarse and breathless. He winced.

Aelin stepped out from behind the blind and against his will, his eyes rose back to her. She was still pulling her long robe up onto her shoulders, over a short nightgown of palest green. He swallowed hard when his eyes took in the lace that covered her breasts. 

He immediately dropped his eyes back to his book. “ _Dàirich_ ,” he breathed. Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_.

“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked, tossing her evening dress carelessly next to her bag and turning to him. 

“Nothing,” he mumbled, shrugging.

Her brows rose. “It certainly sounds like something to me, Mr. Whitethorn.”

Rowan glanced at her quickly then looked back down, “You just seemed to be enjoying Fenrys’s company, is all.”

She blinked at him, looking genuinely surprised. And a bit upset. “He was apologizing about accidentally getting me arrested.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, feeling ridiculous. He knew he had no right to be upset at her talking to other me, she was her own person and he had no claim on her whatsoever, but… that thing inside of him was roiling with unease and frustration. “What about Dorian?” he asked with forced indifference.

Aelin’s expression shifted to one of shock. Annoyance colored her tone when she asked, “What about Dorian?”

“He’s leading the competition,” Rowan replied back, keeping his gaze on the book before him, but his voice held a hint of the irritation that had been building on him all night. Not at her, no. At himself for letting this happen. 

Her mouth fell open in shock. “You’re _jealous_ ,” she blurted in disbelief.

Rowan blinked in surprise, forcing an indignant huff. “No I’m not.” Even though it’s a lie. That is exactly what he is, what he had been trying to avoid admitting all night. He was jealous.

“Yes you are!” she laughed, looking mighty pleased about it. It only made his irritation grow.

“No, I’m not,” he repeated forcefully, trying to hide his embarrassment behind frustration. “I just don’t want my guide _consorting_ with the opposition.”

He knew it was exactly the wrong thing to have said the second the words left his lips. 

The laughter died on her lips and her eyes narrowed dangerously as they focused on him. “You are a rutting _idiot_! Dorian is practically engaged and I have no interest in Fenrys whatsoever.” She rolled her eyes, scoffing as if this were the dumbest conversation she had ever had and Rowan wanted to sink lower in his chair. It probably was. “I swear, if I had known you were going to act like this I never would have come up with the stupid marriage cover.”

“Just another one of your brilliant ideas that you never bother to run by anyone else before hand,” he sneered. He didn’t know why he said it. Or why he added, “Like that kiss at the prison.”

He saw the anger flash in her eyes, the fire in them blazing dangerously. “I only kissed you, Mr. Whitethorn,” she hissed back bitingly, “because I thought I was either about to be hauled off to a prison cell for the rest of my life or die. It seemed like a good idea at the moment, but I never would have done it if I had known you would turn into such a territorial bastard about it!”

Rowan flinched as if she had struck him, leaning back in his chair. Everything went quiet in his head, so quiet he could hear his own heartbeat thundering though his skull. 

The anger vanished Aelin’s face the second she uttered the words, her eyes going wide and her mouth falling open, as if she were surprised by her own words.

He dropped his gaze, feeling that thing in his chest writhing, aching, fissuring. 

This was exactly why he had been so upset with himself. For foolishly letting himself think he had seen anything in her eyes earlier. For feeling bothered by all the looks and the flirting. For somehow, against his own better judgment, letting himself start down this road again. And now exactly what he had been trying to protect himself from had happened. 

She didn’t care about him. And he was a stupid fool for letting himself think it could ever be otherwise.

~*~

Hurt flashed in Rowan’s eyes, something essential in them seeming to gutter and go out, the lovely dark green of them losing some of that vividness. And it caused an ache in her chest.

Aelin instantly regretted the words. All of her frustration vanishing from her body, leaving her feeling hollow and cold. She dropped her gaze to floor. “I… I-”

“I don’t care,” he cut her off dismissively. Despite everything he had said and done the past few minutes pointing to the opposite. Rowan slammed his journal shut and stood from the table, tossing his glasses atop the book. He stormed over to his own travel bag, yanking out his sleeping shirt with more force than was necessary.

Her chest ached, and she wanted to call after him, to explain that she hadn’t meant it. Not at all. She needed him to understand, but she didn’t know what to say. 

And he didn’t look back as he ducked behind the changing blind. 

Aelin screwed her eyes shut and groaned softly, scrubbing her face with her palms. She walked over to the small vanity table and picked up her brush, feeling frustrated and guilty and needing to do _something_ with her hands so she didn’t go strangle him for being so dense.

“Stupid,” she muttered, cursing herself. Because what she had said to him about that kiss wasn’t exactly true. Yes, she _had_ kissed him because he was there and there was a good chance she was about to die… but it was so much more than that. 

She didn’t know how to explain it. But the second she had laid eyes on him in that prison, tall and serious and somber, she had felt drawn to him, like something inside of her was tugging tugging tugging towards him. His pine green eyes had met hers and a warmth and calmness had spread through her bones the likes of which she hadn’t know since she was a child. Something about him just felt, familiar somehow, it was like she was looking at someone she had known her whole life, despite it being the first time she had ever seen him.

And when she had pulled him to her and his lips had touched hers… It was like getting an answer to a question she hadn’t even known she was asking. She still didn’t really know what the question was, or what the answer meant.

She couldn’t tell him that though, it sounded crazy. 

With a quiet groan, she yanked the silver brush through her curls, the bristles catching on knots and tangles and making her eyes sting. 

And that was when she noticed the puddle. A few feet away, below the single window in their room, was a small pooling of water, like someone had spilled something and walked away, leaving slowly drying boot prints in their wake.

Immediately she was on alert, her muscles tensing. 

Because those prints… they were not Rowan’s. And they had not been there a few minutes ago.

They weren’t alone.

Aelin’s heart rate spiked. She needed to get to Rowan. Fast. And she needed to get to her weapons bag across the room. But if she made any sudden moves, or said anything to him, she risked alerting whoever it was that she was aware of their presence.

She laid her brush down on the vanity with a loud clack. Let them think she was still angry with him and fuming. 

Rowan made a noise behind the blind, a sound between a snort and a huff. Good. Good. 

Keeping the scowl on her face, she stomped across the room to her weapons bag and began rummaging through it. She was aware of Rowan stepping out from behind the blind, just as her fingers wrapped around the hilt of a dagger. 

“Rowan,” she said as calmly as possible, while still keeping that hint of irritation in her tone, hoping he would understand the levity of the situation. “Would you come here for a second?”

There was a heartbeat of silence and then, “Miss Galathynius.” Breathless and barely louder than a whisper.

Aelin’s heart stopped, dread pooling in her stomach. 

She yanked the knife out of its sheath and spun on her heel. 

And her blood went cold. 

Because there stood Rowan, his shirt partially unbuttoned, green eyes wide with alarm. And a knife poised to slit his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry (not really, lol).
> 
> Dàirich = ‘fuck’ in Scottish Gaelic (according to what info I could find. it could be wrong, don’t quote me on that)


	7. The Attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I kept y'all waiting long enough after that cliffhanger ;)

Rowan’s heart was racing. He had scarcely managed to undo more than a few buttons on his shirt before a body pressed up against his back. A surprised gasp escaped his lips a second before the sharp, cool edge of a knife came to rest against the front of his throat. 

“Quiet,” a male voice whispered, paper soft and hoarse, as if it had not been used in a very long while. 

For a several heartbeats they stood there, Rowan hardly daring to breath or move, not even to drop the night shirt still clutched in his hand. He could hear Aelin’s angry footsteps as she walked across the room, coming closer.

An elbow dug into the center of Rowan’s back. “Move,” the man ordered. He was slightly shorter than Rowan was but surprisingly strong, easily forcing Rowan to take a few slow steps forward, until he was out from behind the blind. 

Aelin was rummaging through her weapons bag, probably looking for something to stab him with, given how pissed she still looked after their argument. The irony of the situation almost made him laugh. “Rowan, would you come here for a second?” she said then, voice almost nonchalant if it weren’t for the underlying irritation in her tone. 

And despite the seriousness of the situation, Rowan felt his heart leap a little at the sound of his name on her lips. It was the first time she had ever called him by his given name. But then the realization of why she would do such a thing dawned on him. 

It was meant as a signal, something he would take note of immediately. Because she knew that something was wrong.

Braving the knife against his neck, and the man wielding it, Rowan murmured, “Miss Galathynius.” Her entire body went rigid, and he knew that she had heard, had understood.

Faster than any person had a right to be, she spun towards them, a knife with a long blade gripped in her right hand, angled and ready to strike. But when her eyes landed on him, on the blade at his throat, she froze, her eyes widening in terror.

The man behind him pressed the blade a little harder against his neck in retaliation for the utterance, and Rowan leaned back, trying to lessen the pressure of it against his skin, even just a fraction. 

“Drop the knife,” came a female voice to his right, low and thick with an Eyllwe accent. Rowan glanced towards the sound and saw a mass of dark gray clothing a few feet away. To his surprise, Aelin immediately released the knife, and it clattered to the floor dangerously close to her bare toes. “Now,” the woman said, “where is the journal?”

Rowan’s heart stuttered. They knew about his journal. But how…

Aelin glared dangerously, her eyes drifting between the woman and the man behind him, holding the promise of a painful death, but at the question they settled on him. _Where_? her eyes seemed to ask, almost pleading. He flicked his gaze to the table. Where he had left both the map and his journal, along with his glasses. She nodded towards the table. “There,” she answered, voice hard.

“Good,“ came that lilting voice again. "And the lock?”

Genuine confusion, and what looked like apprehension, flashed across Aelin’s face. “We don’t have a lock,” she replied, sounding slightly shaken, her voice losing some of the hostility.

Next to him, the woman shifted. “Do not lie to me.”

“I’m not _lying_.” She took half a step towards them, fists clenching at her sides. 

“Don’t move,” the woman said, her voice carefully soft with a veiled threat. She turned towards him, and in the space between where the cloth covered her head and mouth, Rowan saw a flash of dark skin and brown eyes. She looked over his shoulder to the man behind him and muttered something in Eyllwe. 

Aelin’s eyes blazed with pure fury. “Slit his throat and you both die,” she snarled, her upper lip curling back to bare her teeth. 

The Eyllwe woman arched a brow in surprise, obviously not expecting Aelin to have understood whatever she said. She tilted her head and gave Aelin an appraising look, her dark eyes seeming to glimmer with amusement.

Keeping her gaze on the blonde across the room, she took a step towards the table, as if circling an opponent. 

“Move.” That elbow dug into Rowan’s back again and he was pushed forward, forced to walk along after her. Each step was halting, Rowan trying his best not to make any sudden or erratic moves that would result in him slicing open his own throat. He shifted his gaze to Aelin again, and there was something like panic written across her face, her jaw clenched. 

But then her eyes met his, and the gold in them burned with determination, and the promise that she would get him out of this. That silent conversation seemed to pass between them again, her eyes conveying to him what he needed to do with a gentle flick downward, as clear as if she were speaking aloud to him, as if some part of him simply knew.

The woman took another step. 

And Aelin moved. Her arm shot out beside her, grasping the oil lamp hanging above the vanity and wrenching it off of the wall. Then without missing a beat, she spun on her heel and hurled it at the woman. 

With a startled cry, she dove out of the way. The lamp hit the edge of the table and shattered, shards of green glass and oil splattering all over the rug, floorboards, the bed skirts. And with a roar, flame leapt hungrily after it. 

The pressure of the knife against Rowan’s skin lessened, ever so slightly, as the man’s attention went to his companion and Rowan was able to take a deep, steadying breath. And he dropped, straight down, ignoring the biting sting as the blade nicked his neck and chin. Crouching low, he threw his weight back into the man, his shoulders and upper back colliding with the man’s stomach and knocking him off balance. He let out a cry of alarm as he fell backwards, tripping over the bed and landing on the floor with a loud _thump_.

And then Rowan ran. Stumbling towards Aelin. Towards safety. 

She grabbed his sleeve and hauled him around behind her, growling, "Get my bag!" 

He glanced back and saw the man rising to his feet, his sea-green eyes wide as the took in the spreading fire, angry oranges and reds devouring the rug and snapping at the bed skirts. Rowan turned and shoved the shirt he still clutched in his hand into Aelin’s weapons bag, along with the few articles of discarded clothing lying next to it, before he closed it and slung the long strap around his body. 

When he turned back around, Aelin was holding more knives in her hands, where she had gotten them from, he hadn’t a clue. She threw them at the two masked assailants, blades missing by mere inches and embedding in the furniture, the wall. One hit the lamp on the bedside table, sending it crashing to the floor. A heartbeat later, the bed was lit. 

The room was quickly getting warmer as all those flames grew, licking up the headboard, the wall, from the charred remains of the rug catching onto the table cloth… 

Rowan’s eyes widened in horror. 

His parents journal. 

Panic seared through him and he took half a step to go after them. But Aelin was faster, she surged forward, hands gripping the edge of the table and flipping it towards their attackers. Sparks and flame flew through the air like fireflies, and the two assailants leapt back, diving onto the floor to avoid being burned.

It felt like his stomach fell through the floor and sank to the murky river bottom below. He just stared at those flames, at the overturned table, and thought he might become ill. 

He hardly noticed as Aelin rushed back to his side. As she grabbed his arm and hauled him towards the door, out of the room and into the hallway. 

He barely registered all the yelling. The smoke hanging thick in the air, burning his nose and eyes and irritating his throat. The passengers rushing by, bumping into him roughly as they fled down the halls. Or the people chasing them. People dressed similarly to the two in their room; dark clothing, their faces covered, carrying various styles of weapons. 

Aelin tugged him along behind her as she ran, never once letting go of his arm, as she dodged other passengers and avoided those people. She rounded a corner and yanked him to a halt, ducking under a stairway and pulling him into the shadowy nook with her to hide behind some wooden crates. 

As she peered back out to see if anyone was following them, Rowan slumped against the wall, letting his head thump softly as he leaned back, and stared into the shadows under the stairwell. 

Everything felt empty. He could barely breath. The journal. His parents journal was- 

"Here.” Aelin whispered hurriedly, turning to him and pressing something against his stomach. His hands came up of their own accord, his fingers brushing over the backs of her hands as he accepted whatever it was numbly. But at the smooth feel of leather on his fingertips he glanced down.. and blinked. His journal. And his glasses. 

Aelin had gotten them for him. 

His eyes lifted back up at her, his heart skipping strangely. A tingling warmth washed through him, from his fingertips all the way down to his toes, pooling in his stomach, his chest, like something settling into place. And he could only stare. Everything felt so light. He wanted to laugh, to cry from joy. To pull Aelin to him and give her a-

Rowan hissed as her hands shot towards him and wrenched her weapons bag around painfully on his shoulders. The gratitude and warmth and that _thing_ he felt seemed to slip just beyond his reach, replaced with irritation. “What the he-” He cut off, blinking in alarm as Aelin removed her robe. She shoved the bundle of black silk into his hands and opened her weapons bag, rummaging through it and withdrawing a leather gun holster that looked like a vest. 

Rowan watched with something like awe as she quickly and efficiently donned it, checking and loading her pistols, the actions smooth and seamless. She slid the guns back into their holsters and pulled out a belt with two long knives sheathed along it and fastened it around her waist.

And then Aelin looked up at him, those turquoise and gold eyes burning with determination as she drew the knives from her belt, and Rowan’s eyes went wide at the wicked sharp steel. 

“Stay to the right. And stay close to me,” she told him, her voice steady and calm, before she went to check if the way was clear. She darted out into the hall and Rowan followed, stuffing her robe an his journal and glasses into her bag as he ran along behind her. 

They barely made it more than twenty feet before three of those masked people came out of a room and spotted them, rushing to intercept them. One of them, a woman, judging by her build, with oddly familiar brown eyes, locked gazes with him and then muttered something to the other two as they grew closer.

Aelin didn’t falter at their approach, even though Rowan stopped short in alarm, her grip on her knives tightening as she angled them. 

The first to reach them, a man, sneered down at her in amusement, lifting the sword he wielded for a blow that would sever Aelin’s head from her shoulders. And Rowan felt fear the likes of which he’d never known turn his veins to ice.

But Aelin dodged, bending at the waist and spinning on her heel, her body passing just underneath the long blade. She came up behind his back and one of her knives sliced down across his back. The sword clattered to the ground a second before his body did, the man writhing in pain. And then she was moving again, bringing both blades around, side by side, to block the blow from the second. 

Rowan blinked and suddenly her right arm was arching around from below, delivering another deep cut across their front. Another spin and she slipped under their arm to their back to intercept the next. 

The third one, the one that had looked at Rowan as if she had recognized him, didn’t even have time to react. Aelin’s knives moved like quicksilver as she disarmed the woman and yanked her feet out from beneath her with a foot, sending her into a heap on the ground. 

Gods above, the way she moved. It was like a dance. Like a wildfire. Untamed and relentless. And with the way her golden hair fanned out behind her, like liquid gold on the wind, she was a living flame.

Rowan had never seen anything like her. 

And he couldn’t look away.

*~*

Fenrys ran down the long hallway, past room after room, narrowly avoiding slamming into passengers that stood in his way, trying to figure out what all the commotion was, or running themselves in the other direction. He had to get to Rowan and Aelin. 

The boat was under attack and these people… they were after _them_. Dorian’s group and theirs. Only people Fenrys knew to be going to Myrkur, as if they had been told precisely who to go after.

They had attacked Vaughn and Lorcan and Connall in the dining cabin. And one had even made the grave mistake of going after Elide, thinking the much smaller woman to be an easy target. That knife in the shoulder had proven otherwise. 

Fenrys had parted with Lysandra, Aedion and Elide outside the dining hall, telling them to do what they had to to get to safety while he went to find Rowan and Aelin. He didn’t bother waiting to see if they listened, he just took off. 

The thought that he could already be too late…. 

It didn’t make any sense. How they had known to come after them too? Not one of them hadn’t mentioned their real plans to anyone, unless they were simply collateral because of their association with Dorian. Fenrys would have been willing to bet that these people were the same group that had attacked Aelin before.

He turned down the corridor that led to Aelin and Rowan’s room and his heart nearly stopped. 

The door was ajar, smoke billowing out into the hall, nearly as much as was already filling the air from the fires those masked people had set.

Fenrys didn’t hesitate as he shoved into the room and was greeted by roaring flames. Covering his mouth with his jacket sleeve, he scanned the room, eyes burning from the smoke and heat. Fire licked up the walls, the table was over turned and had been reduced to little more than matchsticks and the bed looked like a large, charred lump of cinders. Thankfully, Rowan and Aelin weren’t there.

But someone else was. 

Lying in a heap on the floor, a figure was slowly trying to push themselves up. The scarf that had been wrapped around their head unwound with the motion, and long black hair styled in dozens of tiny braids spilled about their shoulders. With a groan they lifted their head, starting suddenly as they apparently noticed him, and they looked up. 

And Fenrys blinked in surprise. 

It was a woman, with creamy dark skin and big brown eyes and full lips. She was one of the most beautiful women Fenrys had ever seen. 

Those dark eyes fell to the floor between them and her arm reached out. Fen followed the motion and saw… the map! He dove after it, snatching it out of her reach. 

Movement caught his attention and he glanced up just in time to see another figure leap atop the burning bed and lunge for him, a long curved knife clutched in their hand. 

“Shit,” Fen muttered and rolled out of the way. Boots slammed into the floor, followed by the knife digging into the wood a heartbeat later, right where Fenrys had been crouching. 

Somehow, he managed to end up on his feet and he threw himself into motion, running for the door. His boot caught on the threshold and he stumbled into the wall across the hall, landing hard against his shoulder. 

And then something slammed into him, shoving him back up against the wall. When he opened his eyes he was met with a young man’s face, a shock of dark brown hair, tan skin and bright sea-green eyes glaring up at him. A sharp point pressed into the side of his neck, directly over where his lifeblood flowed, at the same time as a forearm pressed down on his throat, making it hard to breathe. The young man snatched the map out of Fenrys’s hand and stuffed it into the sash around his waist. 

Fenrys glanced up and saw the woman appear in the doorway, her lovely face set in a half scowl, as she drew a knife from her own belt and took a step towards them.

His eyes widened in alarm as he realized they were likely about to kill him. And just as his brother had taught him, Fen struck. His left arm came up and slammed into the man’s elbow, knocking the arm that was crushing his windpipe, along with the knife, away from his neck. While the man was startled by the sudden move, Fen threw his much larger weight into him, shoving him backwards and into the woman, who fell back against the door frame with a groan.

And Fenrys ran, shoving the map he had snatched back into his jacket pocket as he went.

~*~

Aelin could see the boat’s starboard side railing just ahead. Just a few more meters and she and Rowan would be in the clear to escape and make for shore. She could only hope that their friends had already managed to get out. Lysandra and Elide, she knew, could take care of themselves, and that the two girls would look after Aedion for her, and make sure Fenrys was alright. 

But it didn’t stop the worry from nagging at her mind. She tried to ignore it, she had to focus right now. 

Rowan had remained right on her heels as they traversed the halls, dodging as many of those masked bastards as they could. Thankfully they had managed to avoid most of them, and Aelin had only had to fight off a handful of them along the way. 

Very few passengers remained on board, everyone having fled for the shores on either side of the river. Just as they were going to have to do. 

Aelin already knew Rowan would likely disapprove of having to take a late night swim and the thought made her smile despite the situation. It certainly wouldn’t be as fun as any other dip in the river she would have liked to take him on, but it would have to do for the time being. 

They came to the end of the corridor and she halted. Rowan stumbled into her back, having not expected the sudden stop, and Aelin threw out an arm to keep him up right. She leaned forward and peered around the corner at the open deck. 

There would be very few places to hide now, no alcoves or doorways to duck into, nothing to take cover behind. They would be sitting ducks until the could get over the railing and into the water. Until the made it to shore really. 

To the far left side of the deck, the other hunters were engaged in a gun-battle of sorts with the masked invaders. Lorcan Salvaterre, Vaughn and Fenry’s brother, Connall, were hunkered down behind some overturned dining tables, opening fire on a small group who were firing back with guns of their own. And they looked as if they were having a grand old time doing so, even Lorcan was grinning with wicked delight. Meanwhile Cairn, like the weasel that he was, was hunkered down behind them, cowering with his hands over his head. 

It was the perfect distraction for them to slip away unnoticed. 

“This way. Hurry,” she whispered back to Rowan and then she slipped around the corner, practically hugging the wall as they crept along, trying to stay out of the line of sight. 

When they reached the next corner, Aelin rushed the last few feet across the open deck to the railing, glancing over the edge at the night-darkened waters swirling against the hull, making sure there was nothing they would hit on the way down when they jumped.

Aelin turned back to Rowan, and found him watching the other passengers running around and the ruckus Dorian’s hired mercenaries were causing across the deck with wide eyes. “Can you swim?” she asked him hurriedly, sliding her knives back into her belt. 

Rowan nodded absently, still more focused on the chaos around them. “Y-yes,” he mumbled, sounding a bit dazed.

She grabbed his sleeve to get his attention and his green eyes snapped to hers. “ _Well_?” she clarified. “Can you swim _well_?”

“Yes,” he nodded again. “Why-”

“Good.” With a grunt, Aelin threw all her weight against him. It was like slamming face-first into a wall, but he stumbled back, loosing his balance as his legs hit the low railing and he tumbled overboard. Rowan’s startled yelp cut off with a resounding splash. 

Aelin climbed atop the railing, readying herself to jump. She held her breath as she watched the water for Rowan to reappear and, after what felt like an eternity, he broke the surface with a loud wet gasp. 

Even from this distance, she could see how wide his eyes were, like a cat that had been dumped in a bucket of cold water. His startled expression quickly shifted into a scowl that he directed up at her. 

Smiling to herself, Aelin tossed her other leg over the rail, about to leap off into the water after him, when two arms wrapped around her from behind and hauled her backwards, her legs kicking the air in front of her, heels hitting the metal bar of the railing painfully. 

“Miss Galathynius!” she heard Rowan yell from below. 

Her bare feet scrabbled desperately for purchase on the wood, so she could stand, to get some leverage over whoever had a hold of her. Somehow, during the struggling, Aelin managed to get one of her arms free, and she reached behind her to grip the scarf they wore over their head, and a handful of the hair beneath it if the pained cry they let out was any indication. Keeping the tight grip so they couldn’t move out of the way, Aelin slammed her head back into their face. 

The person, a woman based on their voice, released her, and Aelin fell into the railing, catching herself as the woman stumbled back. 

Rowan was still waiting down below, looking up at her in concern. “Miss-" 

” _Go_!“ she growled, pointing towards land, "Get to shore!” She didn’t wait to see if he listened, the sound of footsteps rushing towards her from behind had her spinning around. 

Aelin threw her arm up to block a punch they were aiming at her face, her forearm meeting their wrist and knocking the blow awry. At the same time, Aelin yanked her left knife out of its sheath and swiped for their neck, but they managed to lean back enough to avoid a fatal blow, instead the blade sliced through the material bunched around their neck. 

The woman stumbled back several feet, her hand pressed to the spot Aelin’s blade had cut. She pulled her hand away, looking down at her gloved fingers as if expecting to see blood, and then lifted her eyes up to glare at her. And Aelin realized then it was the same woman from the hall, the one with brown eyes the color of fresh turned soil. 

With a growl, the woman drew her own knife and flew at Aelin, but she was ready. 

Aelin sidestepped, bringing her knife down on the woman’s outstretched wrist. Not to cut, but just enough to cause pain. The woman’s blade clattered to the floor, followed by Aelin’s as she released it. Using the woman’s forward momentum against her, Aelin brought her arm up and caught the woman across the chest and swung herself around behind her, wrapping both arms around the woman’s neck in a chokehold. 

Taking further advantage of her now off-balance attacker, Aelin pitched forward, slamming the woman into the railing. Her body went limp and slid out of Aelin’s arms, completely unconscious as she hit the floor, the woman’s brown hair spilling out of her askew head wrap.

Standing there for a second to catch her breath, Aelin looked out at the water and saw Rowan’s wet silver hair shining in the moon and firelight as he swam for shore. He was straggling a bit with the weight of her weapons bag, but he was doing well, and was nearly to shore. She placed her hands on the rail to climb over again, when-

“Aelin!” 

Aelin groaned. The gods were really testing her tonight it seemed. Rolling her eyes at the familiar voice, she glanced over her shoulder to find Fenrys sprinting towards her from the corridor, looking like Hellas himself was on his heels. 

He leaped at the last second to avoid trampling the unconscious woman lying on the floor and stumbled against the railing. 

“What are you doing here, Fen?” she demanded flatly, feeling that panic she had been pushing back rise to the surface. If Aedion or the others were in trouble… “I thought you would be-”

“They’re fine! I sent them to safety,” he cut her off, realizing what she was worried about. Panting “I was looking for you by the way, you’re very welcome,” he added sarcastically, but the effect was lost between his heavy breathing, he had obviously been doing a lot of running in the last few minutes. But then he glanced around, “Where’s Rowan?”

She nodded out at the water, “Swimming to shore. Like _we need to be doing_.”

“Oh, alright, lets-” he glanced around and started, noticing his brother and the others still fighting with those people. “Connall! What are you do- _Gyah_!” He cried out as Aelin shoved him over the railing. 

And then, rolling her eyes, she climbed atop the metal bar and dove off into the cold black.

~*~*~

Rowan’s teeth were nearly chattering, thanks to the impromptu swim and relatively cool night air, by the time Aelin finally made it to the shore. And Fenrys as well. Fen crawled halfway up the bank and rolled over onto his back as Aelin waded ashore, water sloshing around her legs, pushing her long hair back away from her face, as she gave him a cursory once over where he stood. 

She quirked a brow at her weapons bag dropped unceremoniously on the ground by his feet, at his arms crossed over his chest, and the scowl on his face that was directed at her. Rowan was fairly certain he looked like a drowned cat. Deeming his condition satisfactory enough, Aelin gave a shrug before turning back to the river, gazing out at the riverboat now nearly engulfed in flames, and the passengers milling about on the far shore. 

“Well,” she let out a disappointed sigh, “there went all of my clothes. I’ll have nothing to wear now.” She turned back to him and even though she joked, he could see the concern in her eyes. The hope that everyone else had made it to safety. She dropped her eyes to the ground again, looking at her bag, and a little smirk pulled at her lips. “But at least I still have my nightgowns.”

At her words, he recalled what she was currently wearing, and his eyes involuntarily swept downward. And he nearly choked. Because her pale green nightgown was as soaked as the rest of her, and was clinging to her body in a way that left almost nothing to the imagination, especially what lay beneath the lace along the front of her gown. Rowan felt his face begin to heat again, as well as the rest of his body. And his teeth certainly weren’t threatening to chatter any more.

“ _Damn_ ,” Fen breathed next to him. 

He stiffened slightly, not having heard Fenrys approach, and leveled a glare at his friend, only to find Fenrys’s dark eyes turned to him, a wide grin on his face. Swallowing hard, Rowan turned nervously back to Aelin, trying his hardest not to let his eyes fall back below her shoulders. She was already giving him a wicked smirk, utterly amused and as pleased as a cat. 

She opened her mouth to say something, words that would surely make him want to throw himself back into the river, either from embarrassment or to cool down was up for debate, but then someone yelled at them from across the river. 

“Hey, Sardothien!” A voice that both he and Aelin both recognized. Cairn. 

Aelin spun around, and Rowan’s eyes narrowed with annoyance as he spotted the man on opposite bank, illuminated by the flames from the boat. 

“Looks like payback is a bitch,” he yelled with a sneered gleefully, amused that she herself was forced to go for a swim after tossing him overboard a few days ago. His nose was a delightful shade of plum, courtesy of that punch from Aelin. It was visible even from this distance and the sight of it made Rowan smile.

Aelin looked just as pleased by it. She rolled her eyes and cupped her hands around her mouth as she called back, “At lease _we_ aren’t on the wrong side of the _river_!” Cairn’s smug expression fell. “Dumbass!” She lifted her arms and gave him a vulgar gesture with both hands, which earned her several colorful curses.

Rowan snorted, feeling his lips turn up at the corners as he fought back a smile. But then he felt a warmth bubbling up in his chest and before he could stop himself, a laugh burst from his lips. And once he started he couldn‘t stop. Everything else he had been holding back; from enduring the teasing to the _rush_ of this adventure they were on, breaking a woman out of prison, having to evade those fighters, like something straight out of a faerie tale, and having to jump ship and to swim to shore. He just laughed harder, this time from the thrill. 

It felt so foreign to laugh like this, he couldn’t remember the last time he had. He was vaguely aware of Fen chuckling next to him, and even Aelin giggled a bit. But when he collected himself enough to finally breathe and open his eyes again, Aelin was looking at him strangely. Her stunning turquoise and gold eyes wide with something almost like awe, a soft smile tugging at her own lips. 

And then she took a step closer to him. And he stopped laughing. “W-what?” 

She was still giving him that strange look, and he felt his heart beating faster as she come to stand right in front of him, looking up at him almost hesitantly. “Are you alright?”

He blinked in surprise, immediately realizing what she was referring too. Without waiting for him to respond, she reached up and her fingers slid along his chin, tilting his head back to inspect his neck. She brushed her fingertips over the small cut on his throat and the underside of his chin where that man’s blade had nicked him, and pleasant shiver went down his spine at the feather soft touch, his skin tingling.

“What happened?” Fenrys asked, concern in his tone. Rowan could feel his eyes upon them, darting back and fourth questioningly.

Aelin didn’t take her eyes off Rowan as she answered, “One of those men held a knife to his throat.” 

“I’m fine,” Rowan assured him.

Fen blinked, still looking concerned, but then he pursed his lips and cast a sly glance between him and Aelin. “I had a knife held to my throat, too.” He tilted his head back to bare his neck, like he wanted her to check him too. 

The action and implication had Rowan glaring at him again, but Aelin just shot Fen a fleeting glance. “You’ll live,” she muttered flatly. Fen’s responding pout had Rowan biting back another grin.

“Aelin!” 

Aelin dropped her hands from his neck at the sound of Aedion’s frantic voice, and a second later her cousin, Elide and Lysandra rushed towards them, all soaking and haggard looking, but unharmed. 

Elide looked them all over as Aedion hugged his cousin. “Is everyone alright?”

“Who were those people?” Lysandra asked, her green eyes on the boat still floating down the river.

Aelin pulled her robe out of her bag, it was dry and warm, thanks to the waterproof leather, and quickly wrapped it around her body as she gave them a rundown of what had happened after she had left the dining hall. For a heartbeat, Rowan was afraid she might tell them about their argument and how ridiculous he had acted, but she didn’t. “I changed for bed and when I stepped back out that man had a knife to Rowan’s throat. I had to set the room on fire for us to get away.”

The mood turned after that, everyone looking much more uneasy and nervous. Lysandra took an almost unconscious step closer to Aedion. 

“I did warn you all of what awaited us once we started this venture. And I promised to take you all to Myrkur anyway,” Aelin reminded them, glancing at each one of them in turn, before she looked to him, her eyes somber and serious. “Are you still prepared to deal with whatever is ahead of us?”

Rowan held her gaze for a heartbeat longer than necessary before he could bring himself to answer. “Yes.” 

She nodded, and lifted her weapons bag, slinging the strap over her shoulders. 

Elide sighed, “So what are we doing now?”

“The trading village we were going to get off at isn’t far,” Aelin answered. “We would have been there by morning, but now we have a bit of a walk ahead of us. We can get supplies there. Clothes and camping gear.”

“With what? We lost all of our money.” Aedion grumbled. 

Elide tilted her head, “I have what we won at cards tonight.” 

Rowan heart sank. He should thought about this before, should have grabbed his own bag when they escaped their room. It had been right there, and all of the money he had brought with him to purchase their supplies had been inside of it. And was now reduced to ashes, floating down the Bogdano River. And now if they were to have to return to Rifthold, they scarcely even had the means to accomplish that.

Next to him, Aelin lifted a hand to the side of her head, her fingers toying with… Something sparkled in the moonlight and he realized it was an earring. A fancy one, made of what looked like diamonds and a large drop shaped pearl. They likely cost a fortune. “I forgot to take them off before they grabbed Rowan.” A quick glance at him. “I can trade them, get us what we need.”

He could only blink at her in surprise, watching as she removed her earrings and dropped them into her robe pocket. He couldn’t believe she would do such a thing for him. That she was still willing to take him to Myrkur after being attacked a second time. And then to offer up her own processions to supply the journey. 

And as they set out, Rowan couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting to the golden haired young woman leading them, and thinking that there was so much more to her than he ever expected.

~*~

Aelin was glad to finally have a pair of actual boots on her feet again after walking all night and most of the morning on the rocky river bank with bare feet. 

Before they arrived at Ieva, she had changed into a pair of her pants that Rowan had thrown into her weapons bag when he grabbed it, and his nightshirt that he had stuffed into it as well. He had offered it to her, saying it might be better if she was properly dressed when she did her bartering. He was right of course, and it felt a lot better to finally be out of that still damp slip of silk and in actual dry clothing, even though she had still been without footwear. 

As soon as they arrived at Ieva, she went right to the traders’ stalls. Those earrings had indeed covered the majority of the supplies they needed, and when they added in Elide and Lysandra’s winnings, and money from Aelin selling a couple of her nightgowns, they had managed to secure everything that they needed. 

They now had horses, a fine Xandrian desert breed bred here to be able to withstand the heat and the dry and to easily traverse the sands with little effort, as well as a few pack horses for carrying their supplies. Clothing and boots, rations, water storage, bedding, tents, lanterns, torches, tools and rope, and everything else that they could possibly think of needing for the rest of the expedition. They even had a little money left over to pay for passage back to Rifthold. 

Aedion, Rowan and Fenrys had been quite surprised at all she had managed to acquire but Aelin just had grinned at them. They were expensive earrings.

By the time Dorian’s party had arrived in the village, all that was left for them to do was load everything onto their horses and set out. 

Aelin checked her saddle bags one more time, making sure they were all properly fastened and that the straps holding her bedroll on were secure. All the while, she kept glancing over her horse’s back at Rowan, watching as he set about checking his own saddle’s straps. She couldn’t stop picturing his face in her mind, the way he had looked at her when she had stepped out of the trees wearing his shirt. The faint blush that colored his cheeks, the way his eyes had widened.

“Why do we need such thick blankets again?” Fenrys asked, a grumble in his tone. He was glaring down at his bedroll, which he was having a difficult time attaching to his saddle, thanks to the bulk. With a roll of her eyes, Aelin stepped over to do it for him, quickly cinching the straps and buckles. “It’s the desert. It’s hot,” he added, glowering at how easy she made it look.

She quirked a brow, shaking her head. “It gets _very_ cold at night. I nearly froze the last time, so trust me, you’ll be thankful for that ‘bulky’ bedding.”

Fen grinned, “Good thing you’ll have an extra body to help keep you warm this time.” He flicked his dark eyes over to Rowan -who saying something to Elide and mercifully didn’t hear-, and waggled his brows. 

Aelin glared at him, just as Rowan came over to stand by them. 

He gave her a look that asked, _do I even want to know_? She shook her head and he smiled. “I was saying to Elide, that it’s too bad we don’t have enough to hire a guide for the desert.”

“We have a guide,” she replied, looking up at him coyly. “Me. And we needed the supplies more. Hopefully no one is opposed to a little manual labor, since we’ll have to do the digging ourselves.” Fen groaned dramatically at her statement but Rowan gave a small smile. Then with a pointed grin, she added jokingly, “Who knows, maybe I can sweet talk Dorian into loaning us a few of his hired hands." 

Rowan’s smile turned into a frown at that, silver brows drawing together, and she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. 

"Well, are we ready to go?” Lysandra asked, scratching her horse between the ears as it sniffed at her pockets.

Aelin turned to look at her friend, “Yes- Oh wait! I forgot we need head wraps. I’ll take care of it, you all wait here.” And with that she turned on her heel and ran back down the street, heading back to the stall where that kindly woman had been so helpful with clothing. Aelin had traded her a bright blue nightgown, and the woman had been so delighted with the color and the 'fine silk’ that she had offered Aelin practically anything she so much as glanced at. 

But as Aelin rounded the corner back onto the street with all the stalls and establishments, her eyes fell upon a group of five men across the square. Her eyes catching on a flash of vivid auburn hair. A color she knew well, that still haunted her dreams. And as she looked more closely, her heart stopped. 

Because there stood her former master, the man who had taught her nearly all she knew of treasure hunting. Arobynn Hamel. 

And standing next to him… was Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oop. there's another one.


	8. Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *TW - talk of past traumas/traumatic experiences: mentions of death and abuse… mostly vaguely alluded to, nothing graphic but just to be safe.
> 
> As per usual, sorry if this sucks. Also, um… please don’t come after me with pitchforks? Enjoy the angst (I guess this is angsty) :)

Rowan glanced over at the street corner around which Aelin had vanished some time before. He had already lost count of how many times he had looked, his heart rate accelerating each time in anticipation, expecting to see her appear, an armful of headscarves and that familiar little grin tugging at the corners of her lips. 

But she hadn’t come back yet. 

If Rowan was being honest with himself, he was starting to feel a bit worried. The stall was only just around the corner a short ways, it shouldn’t have taken her half this long to buy a few scarves and return. Of course the shopkeeper could have roped her into a conversation, but Aelin wouldn’t have kept them waiting, not when she said she would be right back.

Maybe someone should go check on her.

Now he sounded like an overprotective nursemaid. Or what was that colorful name she had called him last night? A territorial bastard? Gods, he was pathetic. 

Rowan tore his eyes away from the street corner and looked at his horse, running a hand down it’s neck. The beast turned his head, looking at Rowan with his brown eyes and began lipping at Rowan’s shirtsleeve. With a small laugh, he scratched him under the chin. But his thoughts were still on Aelin. 

“She should have been back by now,” Elide’s quiet voice cut through his musings as she slipped up beside him.

He glanced down at her, her words giving him almost a sense of dread. If she was feeling uneasy about Aelin’s prolonged absence too… Unable to help himself, Rowan murmured, “I’ll go find her.” 

He didn’t miss the little smirks the others threw at him as he turned away and started down the street. He’d been enduring them all morning. From the second Aelin had stepped out of the treeline wearing his shirt, which was a far more satisfying sight than it should have been, with her bare feet and long golden hair tumbling around her in a tangled mass… She had looked like a faerie princess straight out of a storybook, and he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off of her. 

Rowan sighed heavily as he rounded the street corner, but when he lifted his eyes, his feet faltered. 

Because just a short distance ahead, practically right outside of the door to the clothier’s stall, stood Aelin. And she wasn’t alone. 

Two men stood before her, conversing with her. Or more accurately, at her. And it didn’t appear to be very friendly conversation.

The older of the two looked to be around his mid-to-late forties, with a handsome face and long deep-auburn hair that fell past his shoulders. He possessed the air of a lord or an aristocrat, someone completely out of place in this little desert town. The other was younger, tall and tan with a head of brown hair. Both were dressed in simple yet efficient clothing that, even from this distance, was obviously of a finer quality.

But that wasn’t what had brought Rowan up short. No, as soon as he spotted Aelin, he had immediately noticed the difference in her demeanor. The unusually tense set of her shoulders, the way she was standing. Something was wrong. 

Rowan turned his gaze back upon the two men again, and as he studied the auburn haired man more closely, he found something about him seemed vaguely familiar.

“…we _miss_ you, darling,” the older man was saying. Rowan was only able to catch a few words, but they sent a chill down his spine. And that voice. Soft and smooth, but sharp like a razors edge, poised to cut to the bone. 

Aelin look up at him then, and as Rowan caught a glimpse of her face, he thought he might be sick. She looked ill, her face much too pale, as if all the color had been leached from her skin. And her eyes… there was a glint of what looked almost like terror in them. In that moment, she reminded Rowan of an animal cornered by a predator. 

And the way the two of them were looking at her, especially the younger, brown haired one, it made Rowan’s blood boil. Without even thinking about it, he found himself taking a few steps closer. 

“… all three of you,” the auburn haired man went on. “… make us so happy if you would join us again. Hunting has been so dull without your lovely faces.” 

The words sparked a memory of something Aelin had told him about her former master. Arobynn Hamel. The auburn haired man fit the description Aelin had given him of the man perfectly. And if this was Hamel… who was the other one?

Even though Aelin looked uncomfortable at his words, her brows drew together in anger. She shifted her stance, standing a bit taller as she glowered at the both of them. “I have an employer presently,” she informed them, her voice as cold and unforgiving as the edge of one of her knives, “And I- We, have no interest or desire to ever return to your services, Arobynn. Now if you two will excuse me, I have business to attend too.”

The dismissal in her tone had Arobynn arching a brow, his eerie silver-gray eyes full of amusement. But he gave a wistful sigh, “You wound me, my pet. But if you insist, I shall respect your decision. I have only ever had your best interests at heart.” 

His tone had Rowan clenching his teeth so hard, he thought they might break. He didn’t believe the words for a second. 

“It truly was lovely to see you again, _Celaena,_ “ Arobynn said. "Please, do give Miss Ennar and Miss Lochan my love and well wishes.” He gave a mocking incline of his head, a little smirk playing at his lips as he turned away and strode across the street where three other men stood waiting.

But the brown haired man lingered before Aelin, showing no inclination to follow. He smiled down at her, a cunning fox’s smile, as if he were in on some secret. And then he murmured something to Aelin that had her eyes widening in alarm, the heel of her boot scraping the stone as if she were about to bolt. The words were so low, Rowan only caught the end of it, “… so we can _catch up_.”

Rowan’s stomach roiled, and without even thinking about what he was doing, he was moving. Closing the distance between them. Aelin looked up at him in surprise as he sidled up next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, tucking her against him. 

“There you are, love,” he crooned as he dropped a kiss to her forehead. Aelin seemed to thaw at the touch, her eyes fluttering closed and that rigidness of her body loosened as she pressed a little bit closer to him. When he pulled back, she gave him a questioning look, an emotion he didn’t recognize in her eyes, but instead of responding, he turned to look at the young man standing before them. It was an effort not to glower, to keep his expression light with polite interest. Rowan was immensely pleased to see the shock in the man’s brown eyes as they darted between himself and Aelin, at the arm Rowan had wrapped, protectively and possessively, around her. “Is this a friend of yours?”

Those brown eyes snapped to him then, assessing and scrutinizing, as if he were sizing up an opponent. Despite Rowan being several inches taller and much burlier than he was, he didn’t seem the least bit fazed at the size difference, clearly ready to fight to stake a claim over the woman next to him. Rowan’s hand on her shoulder tightened. 

Aelin swallowed, and through her voice was more even, Rowan could still hear the quaver in it as she responded, “This is Sam Cortland. A former acquaintance of mine. Sam, this is Rowan Whitethorn.” As she spoke, Rowan felt her arm squeeze in between their bodies, her hand wriggling into her pocket and curling into a fist.

The young man, Sam, huffed a laugh. “Acquaintance? Really, Aelin, is that what you call it now?” His dark eyes flicked over Rowan again. “Is he an _acquaintance_ too?”

Something cold and oily and uncomfortable churned in Rowan’s gut. He hated that tone, hated how it made Aelin’s shoulders threaten to tremble. And the way he looked at her, like she was just a piece of meat. With a flare of anger, Rowan realized what their former relationship must have entailed. 

“Her _husband_ ,” Rowan nearly snarled. He could sense Aelin’s gaze on his face, could practically feel her surprise. He was surprised at himself. Sam’s brows shot up in disbelief and his eyes immediately went to Rowan’s left hand, and then Aelin’s. And Rowan wanted to curse. 

“Newly wedded,” Aelin supplied weakly, an attempt to explain away the absence of wedding bands. But the gleam in Sam’s brown eyes, and the slight, amused tilt of his lips, told Rowan that he saw right through the lie. 

He gave Rowan another once over and smirked before turning back to Aelin. “I’ll see you around.” It was a promise. And then he was gone, following after Hamel with long, purposeful strides.

Rowan glared after him until he vanished between the people milling about the street. Once he was gone, then, and only then, did he drop his gaze down to Aelin, and his heart twisted at her pained expression. Before he cold say anything, she turned away, stepping out from under his arm in a move that left Rowan feeling strangely hollow. 

She made for the door to the clothing trader’s establishment, but Rowan easily caught up to her, halting her by placing a hand on her shoulder and turning her around to face him. His other hand came up to brush a strand of hair back from her eyes. “Are you alright?” he asked gently, brows furrowed in concern. 

A motion down at her side caught his attention, and his eyes dropped to her right hand. Her fingers shifted as she clenched her hand in a fist, as if she were holding something. He couldn’t tell what it was, but it must have been whatever she had grabbed in her pocket.

She wouldn’t meet his gaze, but Rowan still caught some emotion flash in her downcast-eyes. Her lips parted, as if she were about to say something, but then they closed again. After several long heartbeats, she finally murmured, “I’m fine.” 

Aelin took half a step back, again moving out of his grasp. And it hurt so much more than Rowan wanted to admit. But then she paused. For half of a heartbeat, her gaze rose to his. 

And Rowan stopped breathing. 

Because her eyes, those brilliant turquoise and gold eyes which had always held such a spark of playfulness, a spark that burned even in the most serious of times, were dull. As if that fire in her soul had been snuffed out. 

“Thank you, Rowan,” she breathed softly, the words almost carried away by the breeze. And then she turned and vanished into the stall. 

And as he watched her walk away, Rowan couldn’t move. His heart felt as if it had cracked within his chest. Because he knew Aelin was anything but fine, and he had no idea what he could do to make it better.

~*~*~

It was just before noon when their group finally left Ieva. As they rode out of the village they received many a confused and curious glance from Dorian’s party, all of whom were still in the process of procuring and packing their supplies. 

They said not a word to the others, riding in silence though the village gates and out into the sweltering sands of the Red Desert. The beginning of what Aelin had informed them would be a nearly ten day trek to the ruins of the ancient city of Myrkur. 

Aelin didn’t mention Arobynn and Sam when they first returned to their group, instead waiting until they were several hours ride out from the town. Rowan understood why when he saw the look that came over Aedion’s face. Her cousin was livid and muttered for a long while about going back to have a little _chat_ with the two men. 

Dorian’s father had hired Hamel and his ilk to help with their expedition, Aelin had explained quietly. Which meant that Aedion might yet get a chance to have that ‘chat’ he so desperately wanted. Rowan had half a mind to help him with it.

The day stretched on as they rode across the hot, sprawling sands. And Aelin fell into a somber silent, hardly speaking even when spoken too. As if she couldn’t bear the weight of their concerned gazes, she tugged her pale green scarf over her head, as if it might block them out, and she stared straight ahead with an emptiness in her eyes. 

She was still holding that _thing_ , whatever it was, clutched tightly in her hand. Her grip almost desperate, as if that little thing were a lifeline, a tether to the here and now, preventing her from fully being lost to whatever memory now haunted her. Every now and then Rowan thought he saw the telltale glint of light on metal, peeking from between her fingers, but he still had not clue as to what it could be.

The bright day gave way into a clear evening, stars beginning to blink awake in the darkening sky and they quickly halted to make camp. Using two of their newly acquired tents, attaching them together as the peddler had instructed could be done, they formed one large space for all of them to share per Lysandra and Elide’s request. Fenrys seemed about to make what was undoubtedly an idiotic comment, but a scarily dark glare from Elide had his mouth closing with an audible snap. 

Once their meager dinner of rations had been prepared and devoured, Aelin stood without a word and retreated into the tent. Rowan watched her go with a heaviness settling within his chest, a weight that had been steadily growing all day as he rode beside her. Lysandra and Elide quickly followed, Aedion on their heels, leaving Rowan and Fen to their own devises until they too finally turned in.

The night did indeed grow just as cold as Aelin had warned, and they were all thankful for those thick woolen blankets that she had purchased for them in the village. And for the bedrolls, which were surprisingly comfortable, despite the fact that they were sleeping on the ground. 

But for Rowan, sleep did not come. And though his body stayed warm, he thought that he had never felt colder in his entire life. Emptier. Restless, he tossed and turned as concern for the blonde haired young woman mere feet away gnawed at him, making the distance between them feel more like miles. And eventually, he found himself keeping watch over her as the night dragged on. 

Aelin didn’t sleep either, instead she lay on her back, gazing up at the canopy of the tent, her profile illuminated by the faint glow of the solitary lantern someone had left lit. So lost in her thoughts that she never even realized that he was awake. In the early hours before the sun broke over the horizon, she rolled over onto her stomach and stared into that low-burning flame, her chin resting atop her folded hands. 

The day that followed was much the same. Hot and mostly silent. Although Aelin did speak a bit more often than she had the day before. Until the other party caught up to them. 

Things were painfully awkward at first, especially when they had had to explain that they too were looking for Myrkur, and why they had lied about their real motives. Chaol and Lorcan eyed them warily after that, but Dorian took it all in stride. He seemed downright thrilled to have more friendly faces along for the ride, and even went so far as to insist that they all camp together. 

Though it was a relief to not have to deal with any resentment or hostility, Rowan thought he almost would have preferred the cold-shoulder treatment. Because now, they had to endure the constant presence of Cairn. And Arobynn and Sam.

Sam watched Aelin like a predator stalking it’s prey. And Rowan had to grip the reins a bit tighter, so tightly that his knuckles turned snow white, in order to keep from hitting anything. Sam’s face in particular.

But for as often as he had caught Sam watching Aelin, Rowan had found Aelin eye’s on his own face. Every time he met her gaze, she looked as if she wanted to tell him something. Her mouth would wobble or her lips would part slightly, but then she would bite her lip and look ahead again. Only for her gaze to drift to him again a few moments later.

The second night, after Dorian’s insistence, they set their camps up closer together. As they began to unpack, Rowan overheard Elide quietly assuring Aelin that they could do the same arrangements as the night before, but Aelin refused.

"We have a cover to keep,” she had replied quietly. And so they had set up their separate tents and returned to the same sleeping arrangements from the river boat. 

He wasn’t about to complain about it now. Not with Sam around. 

Rowan settled back onto his bedroll for the night, tugging off his new boots. As he massaged at a few of the aches in his muscles from the constant riding in the saddle, he glanced over at Aelin through his lashes, watching her as she sat atop her own pallet. 

As expected, she was once more staring into the flame burning low in the lantern. Her hands were resting in her lap, her right hand palm-up and open for once, and he finally, finally saw what she had been holding onto so tightly for the past day and a half. A small golden lighter. It looked as if there were something engraved on the side, looking almost like curling letters but from this distance he wasn’t entirely sure.

He lifted his gaze from her hands back to her face, taking in the pale, drawn look about her features. She was already so much smaller than he was but now… with her shoulders curved inward as they were, she looked even more so. Almost frail. Wraith like. 

His heart gave aching tug, one so painful that it was almost hard to breathe. It had hardly been a day and a half since the village, but already he missed her smile. Gods, he missed that smirk. And that laugh. The teasing and the insufferable sass. That fire that burned in her remarkable eyes. He would do anything to bring it back. Anything, to coax even an ember of that flame that had burned within her soul back to life. 

But he didn’t know how. Didn’t know what he could do. And with her so closed off like this… It was driving him mad, the not knowing. What had happened to her that had caused her so much pain? But at the same time, Rowan wasn’t entirely sure that he _wanted_ to know, if he could bear it. Or what he would do if he learned the truth.

And it wasn’t his place to ask such things anyway. The two of them weren’t even friends. Not really. And he wasn’t going to push it on her. If Aelin wanted him to know, she would tell him. It was her decision and he would respect that. Even if it drove him insane.

So instead, Rowan eased back onto his pillow, pulling the blanket up over his achy legs. He cast another quick glance at Aelin, but she still hadn’t moved to go to bed. Ignoring that persistent ache in his chest, he murmured softly, “Goodnight, Miss Galathynius." 

She didn’t respond, didn’t show any signs of even having heard him speak. With a heavy sigh, Rowan laid his head back onto the pillow and closed his eyes, waiting for sleep to claim him. 

There was a heartbeat of silence, followed by the muffled sound of someone shifting their weight ever so slightly and then, a heartbeat after… "Rowan?” Soft and oh so hesitant, as if she were afraid he had already fallen asleep.

His eyes snapped open at the sound of her voice, barely more than a breath, and he quickly pushed himself up onto an elbow to look at her. “Yes?” he asked breathlessly, not giving a damn how desperate he looked or sounded. 

Aelin was leaning towards him, her weight resting on a hand as she peered over at him with furrowed brows. As his attention settled upon her, she turned to face him fully, tucking her legs beneath her. But she wouldn’t look at him, instead staring down at her hands clasped together in her lap. And then she took a breath. One deep, steady breath. As if she were bracing herself for something. 

Rowan didn’t mind. He’d wait all night if he had to. Until she decided she was ready. 

For what felt like an eternity, she worried her lip between her teeth, and Rowan was afraid that it might start to bleed, but then she stopped and her now-red lips parted. “When I was eight years old,” she began, scarcely more than a whisper, “my parents were killed during a break-in at our home in Terrasen…”

And so she told him. Everything.

How she and Aedion and Elide -who’s parents had been in the room with her own when the robbery had occurred- were all shipped off to an orphanage near the border with Adarlan because none of their other family had wanted them. 

Aelin shook her head sadly, the moisture in her eyes shining in the glow from the lantern. “We were there for almost a year when Arobynn found us,” she said, her voice watery but holding more than a hint of bitterness.

Arobynn had stolen her and Elide away, leaving Aedion to wander what had happened to his cousins for the longest time. She told him of her time with the master treasure hunter, how he _collected_ unwanted children, Lysandra among them, because children could slip into places that grown men could not. How he had trained them all to be his own personal treasure hunters, and then said that they owed him after, for taking care of them and for teaching them his ways. All ways to prevent any of them from being able to leave, and those who tried to flee, he mercilessly hunted down. 

She told him every dark and twisted detail of her ten years in Arobynn’s services. Everything dangerous situation she had been forced into. Every verbal and physical lashings she had endured when she failed or displeased him in anyway. Before she had even reached her sixteenth year, Aelin had had seen and done things most grown men hadn’t in their entire lifetimes.

Rowan sat there in silence, his trembling hands hidden in the folds of his blanket as he gripped the soft wool so tightly he wouldn’t have been surprised to find tears if he were to inspect it later. He scarcely dared to breath for fear he would miss word, clinging to her each somber syllable as he watched the range of emotions flickering across her face, within her turquoise and gold eyes as she told him her tale, but at the same time, dreading each one.

However, he could sense that they were nearing the part of her story that had caused her the sorrow and heartache that now dimmed the fire in her stunning eyes. And Rowan wasn’t sure if he was ready to hear it after what he had already learned, didn’t know if he ever would be. 

But Aelin took a shaky breath. “Over the years, I saved enough gold to pay Arobynn back for all the ‘training’.” Her mouth twisted down at one corner, in obvious distaste for the word. “It was enough to pay off Elide and Lys’s debts too, and I bought us a little place to stay until everything settled down; an apartment in the slums. But even after we paid him off, Arobynn didn’t want to let us leave.” She smiled ruefully, “He doesn’t take kindly to losing his prized possessions.”

She fell silent, and Rowan felt his pulse spike in anticipation as he waited for her to continue, and it was then that he noticed her hands, still folded together in her lap, were gripped so tightly that her knuckles had turned as white as snow. "I smuggled them out,” Aelin said softly, “and then I stayed behind to try and keep him off their trail. But before I made my own escape, I-,” her words broke off again, her gaze rising to the tent’s canopy as she blinked several times, as if to hold back tears. “Sam is Arobynn’s son, and he and I, we- we were… _involved_." 

Rowan had suspected as much after that initial meeting but still, hearing it confirmed aloud hurt more than he wanted to admit. More than he was willing to look into at the moment.

"I asked him to come with me. I knew better,” Aelin went on, her voice so soft and yet near deafening in the silence of the tent, the world outside seeming to hold its breath as if it, too, were trying to hear. She lowered her eyes back to her hands, “I knew better, but I thought that he… It was never good but I thought that he loved me. And I made a stupid, foolish, love-sick mistake.” She said it almost desperately, as if she were trying to make him understand. Like she had just admitted to some dark secret and expected him to judge her or berate her, to agree that she had been foolish for thinking such a thing. 

But he didn’t. He never would. 

Her lips wobbled again, brows drawing together in frustration as she glared over at the lantern. “He said he would come and asked me to help him pack so that we could leave right away but… he took me to Arobynn-” Her voice broke and her breath hitched as she choked on a sob. 

Without hesitation, Rowan leaned over and wrapped his hand around hers, squeezing it gently. His heart felt as if it were about to beat its way out of his chest for how hard it was hammering against his ribs. Silently, he willed her to take his strength, to take everything from him, just so long as she knew that she wasn’t alone. That he was here and that he was not going to go anywhere. 

Aelin gaze shifted to the hand he had wrapped around hers, her eyes flickering with something like awe or disbelief and he nearly shuddered in relief as her smaller fingers wrapped around his in return. 

“He has this hole, a pit, dug beneath the floor in one of the cells beneath his manor. He locked me inside it for four months. Four months, I sat in complete darkness, nearly going mad, thinking that I had gone blind each time I opened my eyes. That was my punishment. One month for each of us and another just because he felt like it,” she added bitterly. “I took it all because I refused to tell him where the others were. Not that I would have ever let them suffer that…" 

Rowan just stared and stared, his heart breaking and yet swelling with pride and awe for this woman. This remarkable, brave, selfless woman. 

After a few moments, she whispered shakily. "I wasn’t the only one. He did the same with everyone who tried to leave. If we weren’t going to work for him anymore, he didn’t want us working for anyone else. So he did what he could to break us. To make us terrified of going back into the ruins. Into the dark.”

He gave her hand another reassuring squeeze and finally, so painfully slowly, Aelin lifted her eyes up to his. Those golden cores around her pupils shone faintly in the light from the lantern, beneath the sheen of unshed tears. And he wanted to weep from relief at having her finally _look_ at him. 

“But you didn’t break,” he said, his voice gentle but firm and full of the admiration he felt for her and all she had survived.

Aelin’s eyelids fluttered and she looked away again, as if she couldn’t bear his gaze and all it held. “But I did,” she murmured weakly. “He did break me. For the longest time, I couldn’t do it. Some days I still can’t do it. I can’t even sleep at night without a candle lit so that I can see when I open my eyes." 

Realization dawned then, and Rowan’s lips parted slowly. The lanterns, the lamps. All those times he seen her staring into the flames. She had been reminding herself, reassuring herself that… Gods. His chest constricted painfully. 

"The idea of going back into the dark…” Her hand trembled within his and Rowan brushed his thumb over the back of it. “But I couldn’t stomach letting them win,” she admitted, “so I forced myself to do it. The first time, when I stepped back inside one of those dark tunnels I thought I was going to die. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t stop shaking. Now I always make sure that I have several sources of light with me when I go on a hunt. Backup torches and lanterns." 

Her right hand curled around the little gold lighter still in her right hand, and Rowan gazed down at her fingers sadly. "And you keep the lighter in your pocket. Just in case.” He didn’t have to say why, they both knew. That she didn’t keep it just because of the dark.

Aelin nodded. “Each time I go on a job I tell myself, over and over 'I will not be afraid’. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t." 

She fell silent again, though Rowan sensed she still wasn’t finished. He ran his thumb over her knuckles soothingly. 

After another long heartbeat of silence, she lowered her head, pulling her hand from his. And in that instance, Rowan felt that coldness from the night before wrap around his bones. But she wasn’t pulling away, as he feared. No she turned her back to him, and began pulling her shirt from the waistband of her pants. "He also gave me this, before he threw me in that hole,” she murmured as she pulled her shirt up her back and-

Rowan lurched fully into a sitting position, a strangled gasp rippling from his throat at the sight before him. And at the sound of it, another sob wracked her body before she stifled it. 

Every thought emptied out of Rowan’s head at the sight of that ruined expanse of flesh that was her back. Scars. So many scars. The discolored, mottled mess of angry red and pink ridges were a stark contrast as they crisscrossed her suntanned skin and atop other faded moon-pale scars. Three of them were much longer and more severe than the others, obviously having healed improperly. 

The deep marks from a lashing.

If he weren’t already sitting Rowan would have fallen to his knees. How had she withstood such pain was beyond him, pain that she perhaps even still had to endure. With a start Rowan realized that that was why she had flinched away from that day on the train. And on the boat. When he had touched her back… 

Oh gods. He couldn’t breathe. He _couldn’t breathe._

“He said I needed a reminder,” Aelin’s voice quavered as she explained the scars, “to never cross him again. Something to think about while I was sitting in the dark.” She was trembling as she let the shirt fall back down her body. “Sam was-,” her voice broke again and she couldn’t continue. 

She didn’t need to say it. Rowan knew, he understood. And it was an effort to keep the anger in check. His blood boiled in his veins, his mind raging like a maelstrom, leaving a deadly calm and deafening silence behind his ears. It was all he could do not to stand, not to storm from their tent and march across camp to find Arobynn, to find _Sam_ , and pay them back for all that they had done to her. To rip them limb from limb, but… 

But Aelin needed him more.

So instead, Rowan took her hand again, holding it tightly as rubbed soothing circles at the base of her thumb. Once again, her eyes dropped to their joined hands, as if the gesture were something amazing, the movement causing her tearstained cheeks to glint in the glow from the lantern. 

Rowan lifted his free hand to her cheek, wiping away the tears with his fingers before he tilted her chin up, praying that she would look at him again. That she would see the truth in his words as he repeated, “You did not break, Aelin." 

Her eyes darted back up to his. It was the first time he had ever called her by her name, and it almost seemed as if the unshakable cold that had wrapped around her these past two days, that had wrapped around the both of them, began to melt away. Those remarkable turquoise and gold eyes, wet and shining like the most precious of jewels, were full of that familiar warmth. As if that fire within her…

Those eyes fluttered closed as she leaned into his touch, but when they opened again she met his gaze, the gold in the centers of her eyes were glimmering and molten. And he saw the words there, as he had so many times before, as if she were speaking to him without saying a word. _Thank you._

Rowan smiled at her warmly in response, brushing his thumb over her cheek before he slowly lowered his hand. 

Aelin eased back onto her bedroll then, curling onto her side so that she was still facing towards him, not once removing her hand from his grasp. After a moment, Rowan laid back as well, letting their still joined hands rest between them on the plush blankets. 

And because she had trusted him so… enough to lay bear to him such a dark part of her soul, Rowan knew that he could trust her with the truth that had haunted him for the past ten years. And for what he was asking her for, what he was asking her to do, he owed her as much. That explanation.

Swallowing the lump that formed in his throat, Rowan let out a breath, and began, "My parents wanted to find the Book of Wyrd to prove that wyrdmarks were more than just an old language system. They wanted to prove that the markings were based in magic and had been used for incantations and spells.” He smiled fondly at the memory of how passionate his parents had been about it. “They believed that magic truly existed millennia ago… that it wasn’t some faerie tale.”

And that was how his mother and father had died. 

The truth poured from his lips far easier than Rowan had expected. Everything from their moving from Wendlyn to Erilea when he was nine years old, to the tomb collapse that had ended their lives when he was eighteen. How all of it had been all his fault. The scars that he had been left with on that day, marks both seen and unseen. 

Not letting go of her hand, Rowan lifted his left hand to the collar of his shirt, deftly popping the top few buttons free with his fingers until he could pull down the neck of his shirt to show her that jagged white scar that ran down the right side of his chest. 

So few people knew that he had been there in the ruins when it had happened. Glennis, his father’s brother, Elyss, a few of his cousins. But no one else. Not even Fenrys or Aedion knew. Rowan had been too ashamed, too riddled with guilt to ever tell them.

He told her how he wanted to honor his parents memory by finding the book for them. But he couldn’t bring himself to try, not when the rumbling and the rubble and the sound of his mother’s screams still haunted his dreams. 

And he told her about Lyria. How the brown haired, brown eyed woman had swept into his life a little over a year ago, not giving him a choice in the matter as she completely bewitched him, and then she had just… left. Her parting words striking home at his fears; that he was a disappointment to his parents, that he was nothing like them and would never live up to all that they had done. That he was too much of a coward to follow in their footsteps. And every day that he spent holed up in that library in Rifthold only proved her right.

“I honestly don’t know if I will even be able to set foot inside the ruins when we do reach Myrkur,” he admitted, gazing up at the drapes of the tent’s ceiling, as Aelin had done before when it all become too much. 

“If I had just listened to them,” he murmured softly, mostly to himself, though he knew she had heard. “If I had just waited like they asked, but I was so eager to get started that morning. And then I went off and forgot my notebook.” A rueful laugh forced it’s way past his lips. “They waited for me. They wouldn’t have even been inside if I had just-” He voice broke with the force of the emotions that finally broke free from the carefully laid dam he had kept them contained behind for so long.

The entire time, Aelin lay there on her side, listening to his every word and watching him with eyes so soft and somber and glowing like molten gold in the lantern light. When his voice broke, she squeezed his hand gently, as he had hers. And when Rowan met her stare once more, he again read the words in her eyes, all the things she wanted to say but didn’t have the words for. _It wasn’t your fault. I’m so sorry. I don’t think you are a coward at all. You_ can _do this._

The gesture, and those unspoken words that he didn’t have to hear aloud to understand, caused an ache in his chest that had nothing to do with the sorrow in the air. 

But it was then that Rowan noticed just how heavy-lidded Aelin’s eyes had become, and as if on cue, she rubbed at them with the back of her free hand. And Rowan reached over to turn down the little knob on the lantern, lowering the wick so that the flame dimmed slightly, but still cast a faint glow about the tent. More than enough light to see clearly by if one were to open their eyes in the middle of the night… 

Aelin stared at the lantern for a moment before slowly turning her gaze back to him, her gratitude clear in her bright eyes. Rowan gave her a soft smile, and she returned the gesture with one of her own, the first that he had seen in what felt like an eternity. It was small and tired, but it warmed him to his bones like a small sun and set his heart to racing again. Gods, how he had missed that smile. 

The young woman beside him nestled down into her pillow, tugging her blanket up about her shoulders as she settled into to finally get some rest, and Rowan tugged her hand a bit closer to his body. Aelin watched him closely, her eyes blinking slowly, as if she were suddenly afraid that if she closed her eyes, he wouldn’t be there when she woke. 

But eventually, her eyes did flutter closed and did not open again as sleep finally pulled her under. 

And Rowan fell asleep to the steady rhythm of her breathing. And when he awoke the next morning, her small hand was still wrapped up within his, pressed against his chest with her palm resting over that jagged scar. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the Sam in this fic is based off the book theory that Arobynn was his father. Surprise? Sorry? (Not really) please don’t kill me.
> 
> And it’s been a hot minute since I wrote this au, forgive me if its a bit weird?


	9. The Desert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some fluff lovelies ;)

Rowan had not been able to shake the image of Aelin’s ravaged back from his mind. From the moment she had lifted her shirt to shown him those hateful, discolored mars across her flesh, they had haunted him. His dreams and every waking moment. When he blinked he saw them, flashing behind his closed eyes. It left him clenching his teeth in a desperate attempt to keep his anger in check. 

It also didn’t help that he could _feel_ Sam watching the two of them constantly as their parties rode across the desert. Rowan had had to bite back the urge to snarl at the younger man several times already. But… 

This morning, Aelin had arose before the dawn and she had been her old self again. The wildfire in human form that he had grow so fond of over the past week. She had laughed and joked, her eyes bright and lively as she flashed that brilliant smile at each of them. 

And Rowan had never felt more relieved, more grateful, for anything in his entire life. She had even teased him this morning, and Rowan had actually laughed from the relief that had coursed through him, his eyes threatening to burn with some emotion he couldn’t explain.

Aelin was currently riding to his left atop her sleek brown desert mare, the mid-day sun glinting off of the hilts of the various knives and pistols she had strapped her person, to her belt and along her legs, as she swayed in the saddle. And as they had countless times already, Rowan found his eyes drifting to her of their own volition. 

As if she had sensed his attention upon her, Aelin turned to look at him, and her full lips curled up into a wide, happy smile. The golden centers of her eyes looked molten in the sunlight, her skin glowing and rosy from the hours in the sun. Several strands of her long hair had escaped from the pale green headscarf she wore and now billowed freely down her back, looking like liquid gold on the breeze.

Rowan’s heart stuttered. Gods, she was beautiful, stunning. And he could hardly breathe. 

Of course he had always found her attractive; he wasn’t blind. But _this_ … this was- It was like he was seeing her for the very first time all over again. And yet, somehow, entirely different. He was seeing all of her now, into her very heart and soul as well. And she was the most exquisite thing he had ever known. 

Aelin dropped her gaze to her horse and, with a soft smile, leaned forward in the saddle to run her fingers through its mane affectionately. The movement drew attention to the low neckline of the shirt she wore. _His_ shirt. Rowan had blinked in surprise when she had exited the tent this morning and he had realized she was wearing it once more, the long hem tucked loosely into the high waist of her snug-fitting brown pants. It was so large on her that it caused the neckline fall low across her chest, revealing the delicate curves of her collarbones and drawing the eye lower…

Warmth bloomed in his cheeks, a warmth that had very little to do with the heat of the sun above, and Rowan quickly lifted his gaze back to her face. But his eyes caught on her mouth, and he felt that familiar urge to move closer to her. To guide his horse over alongside hers. To reach across that distance between them and trace his fingers along her jaw to the point of her chin. To trace the contours of her full lips. To tangle his hand in her golden locks as he leaned in and-

“Do you know why they call this the Singing Sands?” Aelin asked, her eyes bright with excitement. 

Rowan blinked. “I… W-what?” he asked breathlessly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fenrys grinning with amusement, his dark eyes shining knowingly, and Rowan felt his face heat further. 

“This part of the desert,” she repeated, gesturing with a hand, “do you know why they call them the Singing Sands?“ 

It took him a heartbeat longer than necessary to fully process what she had asked of him before he could finally manage to shake his head. He had to look away from her for a moment to try and regain some of his composure, terrified that Aelin might read what he had been thinking just moments before. 

Some god must have found his suffering eternally amusing, because at that moment, Aelin tugged on her reins, sidling her horse in close to his. Just as he had thought to do mere seconds ago. She was so close that for a heartbeat her knee brushed against his and a sharp gasp caught in the back of his throat. Rowan swallowed nervously, his eyes quickly darting back up to hers.

Thankfully, Aelin hadn’t seemed to notice his reaction. Her stunning eyes, practically glowing like small suns, were alight with a conspiratorial gleam as she leaned in and whispered, “Legend says that these lands are enchanted, or cursed depending on the tale, and that the sands actually _sing_. And that anyone passing through must walk in time with the melody, for if they don’t, the song will become out of tune and the earth will turn to quicksand beneath their feet and swallow them up!”

Rowan’s eyes widened in alarm and he couldn’t stop himself from glancing nervously down at the ground beneath his horse’s hooves. Aelin let out an airy laugh, and it was a different laugh that any he had heard from her before. Bright and unrestrained, the sound sending a jolt right to his heart and warming him more than the mid-day desert sun above ever could. And when he lifted his gaze back to her face, the joy he found there had his stomach tumbling pleasantly. 

“It’s only a myth,” she assured him, laughter still coloring her tone. “If it were true, we would have already been gobbled up by now because technically we’ve been crossing them for the past three hours.” Her expression became a little more serious then and she nodded to their right, “But there are pools of quicksand the further northwest you go, so we _do_ have to be careful that we don’t stray too far.”

He blinked curiously, and then followed her gaze, staring out at the reddish golden-brown flats and dunes spreading into the distance. Rowan had never heard any of this before. But he supposed that these were the sorts of things one didn’t learn from the pages of a book. Things that you had to venture out into the world and hear from the mouths of the people who lived it, who dwelled in those far off places, or from experiencing them yourself. 

It filled him with a sort of awe.

As he turned back to Aelin, his lips quirked up in amusement. “So they _don’t_ actually sing?” he asked, his voice much steadier now.

“Actually, they do,” she answered. Rowan arched a brow in confusion and she went on, her voice soft, as if she were imparting on him some secret. “Some nights, you can hear this _sound_ in the air, like a song. The locals claim it’s the souls of the people who died here thousands of years ago when Myrkur fell, singing a lament for all they lost and begging the gods for forgiveness for their crimes.”

Rowan tilted his head as he looked down at her, trying to figure out whether or not she was teasing him again. “Did you hear the singing?” he asked hesitantly, genuinely curious but also afraid of possibly bringing up bad memories for her.

That playful expression sobered a bit. "Once,” she said solemnly, turning to look back out over the desert before them. “The last time I was here I passed through just before nightfall, and as I rode on, I could hear this… noise in the distance behind me. I looked back but I didn’t see anything. No lights, no movement in the moonlight. It was just this song floating in the air. It was one of the most beautiful things I have ever heard.”

Rowan was silent for several heartbeats and it took him nearly that long to realize that he was staring at her again. He cleared his throat. “Maybe we will hear it tonight,” he breathed hopefully. “It would be an amazing thing to experience." 

Aelin’s stunning eyes sparkled as her lips turned up into a soft smile, and Rowan had to remind himself to breathe once more. "Maybe we will.”

Oh, he was in so much gods damned rutting trouble. 

~*~*~

“Rowan. Rowan, wake up." 

The soft murmur from somewhere very close pulled Rowan from sleep’s deep embrace. With a low groan, he rolled over on his pallet, away from that sweet familiar voice, blindly grasping for the blanket that had slipped down around his waist while he slept. He quickly yanked the soft wool up to cover his chilled face, as if it would block out the world. 

It felt as if he had only just fallen asleep a short time ago, surely it was not yet morni-

” _Rowan_!” that familiar voice repeated in a quiet hiss right next to his ear, this time accompanied by the warmth of a small hand urgently shaking his shoulder, and it had Rowan’s eyes popping open as he lurched upright, his heart instantly thundering against the inside of his ribs. 

His bleery gaze darted about the tent frantically, searching for anything amiss, any sign of a threat, before they finally settled upon the young woman kneeling next to him. Her eyes were still slightly puffy and hooded from sleep, her golden hair mussed and falling out of the loose braid she had woven it into before bed. She was so close that he could feel her breath, puffing gently across his face, his lips and… 

Rowan blinked in alarm, the sensation jolting him fully awake, and he quickly shoved himself upright into a proper sitting position. Desperate to put even a little distance between them before he did something very, _very_ stupid. 

It didn’t keep his gaze from momentarily dipping to her mouth. 

Swallowing nervously, Rowan lifted his eyes back to her own, praying to Mala above that Aelin hadn’t noticed the look, and found the brilliant turquoise and gold shining with excitement. “W-what’s wrong?” he asked roughly, his voice so hoarse from sleep and the sudden closeness of her that his accent sounded heavier than usual, even to his own ears. 

“ _Shhh_!” Aelin quickly shushed him, pressing a finger to her lips in a gesture for him to keep quiet and Rowan had to fight to keep his gaze from dropping back to her mouth again. She whispered softly, the words hardly louder than a breath, “Come and listen, buzzard.” 

Before he could respond, she was reaching for him, taking both of his much larger hands within her own, and the touch sent a warmth tingling along both of his arms, from his fingertips all the way to his chest. She tugged his arms, urgently but still gentle, and Rowan huffed a quiet laugh, feeling his lips turn upward into a small grin. At her persistence, and at the use of that nickname she had so graciously decided to bestow upon him. With his heart now beating wildly for an entirely different reason, he let her have her way, shifting his weight until he was on his knees before her. 

Aelin grinned up at him, taking her full lower lip between her teeth as if to stave off a giddy laugh of delight. Her enthusiasm was an almost palpable thing, crackling through their tent and Rowan found himself holding his breath in anticipation of whatever she had planned. But then she let go of his hands and turned away, crawling quickly towards the tent’s opening on her hands and knees. 

Shaking his head slightly in amusement, Rowan followed. Crawling over as she had done to peer outside. 

The camp around them was silent, save for the occasional sounds of snoring rising from a few of the other tents; Fenrys’s easily recognizable amongst them. The stars above twinkled bright in the inky blue-black sky above, like a million diamonds, and the moonlight bleached the ocean of reddish-tan sand surrounding them to a silvery taupe color. 

Everything was still. Peaceful. 

Rowan quirked a brow in confusion. He was just about to ask Aelin again what was wrong, the words already forming on his tongue, when he heard it. A soft lilting floating on the air, like a chorus far in the distance. 

Oh… _Oh_. Rowan let out a shallow breath as he realized _what_ exactly he was hearing, his lips parting in amazement as he listened to the otherworldly song of the Singing Sands, floating to their ears over the dunes. The sound eerie and haunting. As beautiful as it was heartbreaking. He was almost afraid that, if he were to make any sort of noise, that song would cease, that it would vanish into the night as if it had never been. 

Carefully, Rowan sat down next to Aelin, the two of them so close that their arms and legs were nearly brushing against each other. He was so lost, so mesmerized by the song that truly did sound like some ghostly lament to the gods, that before he even realized what he had done, he lifted his left hand and ran it lightly down her back. 

Rowan’s eyes widened in horror at what he had done, his heart nearly stuttering to a halt in his chest as he turned to Aelin, his apology already written across his features, but… 

Aelin simply kept gazing out into the distance, completely unfazed by the touch. As if it hadn’t bothered her at all. In fact, she moved even closer to him, closing that hairsbreadth of distance that had been between them as she pressed her shoulder up against his side. 

For several long heartbeats, Rowan could only stare down at her in a daze, hardly daring to breath. Then Aelin tilted her head back to gaze up at him, her stunning eyes lined with tears gilded silver by the light of the moon, a soft smile gracing her lips. The gesture was as heartbreaking and lovely as the young woman herself, and Rowan felt a tightness form within his chest, one that threatened to ruin and remake him all at once.

After a moment, Aelin shifted her attention back out to the desert, but for the longest time Rowan continued to watch her. His eyes drinking in the look of wonder on her face. The awed set of her mouth and the brightness of her eyes. 

But eventually, he did turn his attention back to the world before them. And the two of them sat there together, listening to that haunting desert melody floating on the breeze long into the night.

***

_Sorrow hung thick in the air. Over the shining army gathered on the edge of the great sandy plane, and over the tall figure standing at the forefront of that army._

_A man, a King, with brown hair peppered with gray and brandy eyes, a glowing blue gem hung at his throat. He looked older now, more haggard and exhausted. As if some grief had aged him decades instead of mere weeks._

_With somber eyes he stared across the plane, towards an army gathered opposite his own. Where that northern legion was shining in their bright armor, this host was darkness, composed of men with black eyes and skin as pale as death. A darkness seemed to waft off of them, sucking the very light from the air around them._

_The Queen with red-gold hair was no where to be seen. Instead a younger woman stood at the King’s side, her long white hair braided back from her face. She glared towards that opposing force with an anger and determination, her brilliant blue eyes shining._

_But the King… there was a dimness about him now, as if he had lost some of that inner fire that had burned within his soul. Like it had lost it’s spark, dimmed from some great loss…_

~*~

She awoke to a shaft of sunlight peeking between the slightly parted flaps of the tent. That warm golden ray spilling across her face had Aelin’s eyes slowly fluttering open, only to squeeze tightly shut again. With a low grumble, she twisted away from the brightness. The blanket already tangled around her body pulled even tighter as she rolled onto her stomach, burying her face in the pillow.

Her heart beat strangely against her rips, as if each dull thump were a labor in itself. The rhythm echoing through her body almost like a funeral dirge as a heaviness gripped her bones. A sadness.

For several long heartbeats, she lay there, releasing slow deep breaths into her pillow, trying to will away the remnants of that dream, but finally, she rolled back over. With another groan, Aelin pushed herself up into a sitting position, scrubbing at her face with the heels of her palms. 

It was only a dream. But… 

But it had all felt so _real_ , just like the dreams she had had on the river boat. It was almost as if she had been there, amongst that king and those soldiers. As if they were all gathered upon the very ground on which she and her friends were currently travel-

Aelin’s head snapped up, her eyes widening with realization. _Of course_. That silly folk story she had told Rowan yesterday; the one about the sands and the ‘fallen souls’ of Myrkur. Coupled with actually hearing that eerie desert song last night… It was no wonder that she had had such a strange and vivid dream, when those thoughts were already lingering in her subconscious.

But even knowing that it was likely only a figment of her imagination, Aelin still couldn’t shake the twinge of unease that clung to her. Her eyes drifted to that strip of sunlight again, that golden ribbon now shining across her lap, across the palm of her right hand where it rested upon her thigh. But she did not truly see it at all, not when her mind kept conjuring pieces of that dream. Over and over. 

The fingers of her right hand curled into a fist as she let out a rueful huff. Aelin shook her head to clear the thoughts and cast a quick glance about the tent, her eyes quickly settling upon the empty bedroll next to her own. 

Rowan. She blinked curiously at the empty bed, reaching over to brush her fingers over the blanket, the pallet. It was cool to the touch. Rowan must have already been up for some time now. 

It was then that Aelin noticed the noises filtering in from outside the tent. Horses nickering. People milling about as they worked to pack up camp before they set out soon. Voices and laughter, her friends’ among them. The scrape of utensils against plates and bowls. 

As if that thought had conjured it, the scent of breakfast cooking finally reached her nose, and Aelin’s stomach gave an angry growl in response. One so loud that her face heated, and she found herself feeling immensely thankful that Rowan hadn’t been there to hear. 

Taking that as a sign it was well past time for her to be out of bed, Aelin made to reach for her boots, but the sound of familiar footsteps approaching caught her attention. She turned to look at the tent’s entrance just as the flaps were pushed aside and Rowan appeared, his upper-half leaning in through the opening. 

Rowan’s pine green eyes lit up as he saw her, a smile gracing his handsome face. “There you are, sleeping beauty,” he greeted lightly, and she could have sworn that his cheeks seemed to darken slightly. “Breakfast is ready.”

Aelin arched a brow and, oh, that was indeed a blush coloring his face, for it deepened at her teasing grin. “Did you cook?” she quipped back as she gazed up at him. 

“Gods, no.” Rowan snorted softly. “I wouldn’t wish that torture on anyone.“ 

And she laughed then. A real laugh, despite that sadness and anxiousness that still lingered over her. When she lifted her gaze back to his face, she found him watching her with a crooked smile tugging at his lips. "I’ll be right there,” she told him, working to free her legs from the blanket that had somehow become completely tangled around her in the night. She must have really thrashed about in her sleep.

When she glanced back to the doorway, Rowan was still standing there, his brow furrowed curiously. As if he had sensed something was bothering her. Aelin gave him a quick shake of her head, hoping the meaning was clear. _I’m fine._

Rowan didn’t seem particularly convinced, but still he gave her a small nod. _Alright_ , his eyes seemed to say, thought his silver brows were drawn slightly. He took a hesitant step back, his gaze lingering a heartbeat longer, before he turned and ducked back out of the tent. Heading back to their friends.

Aelin listened to the sound of Rowan’s retreating steps and then to his deep voice as he spoke to one of their friends, before she snatched up her boots. Hastily, she jammed her feet into them and stood, making to follow after Rowan but she found herself pausing just inside the tent as that unease seized her once more.

After a moment, she shook it off. Willing her typical, cocky smirk to her lips, she sauntered out into the camp to join the others for breakfast in the early morning sun. 

~*~

Aelin sat cross-legged atop her bedroll, her cache weaponry spread out before her on the blanket as she began the meticulous task of cleaning and oiling and polishing each one. Every knife and dagger, every pistol and revolver, ensuring that the harsh desert climate did not damage the fine inner workings of her guns or dull her blades. 

Sand, unfortunately, could find its way into anything. 

The work was slow and tedious, the actions methodical from years of and years of practice, but she wanted them each to be in tiptop shape and ready at a moment’s notice. Should the need arise. 

It also served as a very good distraction, keeping her mind occupied and focused, preventing her thoughts from wondering -as they had done far too frequently over the past few days- to a certain young man with pine green eyes and silvery-white hair. A young man who, at that precise moment, chose to wonder into their tent. 

Aelin kept her head down, her eyes focused unwaveringly upon her hands as she slid an oiled cloth along the slightly curved blade of the fighting dagger she held. But she was still acutely aware of Rowan’s every movement as he slowly crossed the tent, his boots halting next to his bedroll, mere inches away from her own. 

After a moment, her resolve began to crumble, and Aelin found herself sneaking a glance up at Rowan. He was reaching up to one of the flaps in the tent’s canopy, his long fingers deftly untying the stays and peeling the covering back from the small, net-covered ‘window’, allowing the twinkling light of the stars and the remaining sliver of moon hanging in the sky above to filter into the tent. 

The gesture caused a familiar warmth to flutter in her chest, spreading throughout the rest of her body. Out her limbs to each fingertip and toe.

Rowan had been adamant about that each night, ever since she told him the truth. He hadn’t said a word, but he always made sure that the lantern had enough oil and that it was left burning low before they went to bed. And that the night sky was always visible through one of those flaps. Just in case. To ensure that she could see the world around her if she were to awaken during the night. 

As he lowered his gaze from the ceiling, Rowan’s eyes met her own and he flashed her one of those small smiles of his. The one that set a her stomach fluttering and left her trying to recall her own name.

She felt her face beginning to heat and quickly turned her attention back to the blade in her hand. She tried, she really did, to focus on her work, but scarcely a heartbeat later, she again found her eyes drifting to Rowan. Peeking over at him from beneath her lashes, Aelin watched as he settled down on his pallet for the night. Toeing off his boots and tossing them over next to her own. And then he began unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt, revealing a hint of his tanned, muscled chest… 

The razor-sharp blade she was cleaning skimmed over the rag and across the pad of her thumb. By some miracle, it didn’t bite into her skin, but Aelin tore her gaze away from the young man sitting next to her, and that distracting bit of skin, and tried hard to focus on her weapons. 

It was _far_ more difficult that she wanted to admit. 

Rowan didn’t seem to notice as he continued to make himself more comfortable for bed. But when he was done, instead of lying down to sleep, he twisted around to watch her as she worked. Resting his chin in his hand as he studied the spread of weapons she had laid out before her with curious eyes. 

Aelin felt her lips curl at the corners as she slid her dagger back into its sheath, dropping it carefully into the weapons bag to her left. Without missing a beat, she picked up the next knife as she asked sweetly, “Like what you see, _husband_?”

He snorted a soft laugh, a faint flush coloring his cheeks as he averted his gaze, his eyes sweeping about the inside of the tent. After a moment, though, he turned back to her and his lips parted. “You-" 

Her eyes darted over to Rowan’s face and found him staring down at his blanket with a furrowed brow. One long, tanned finger idly traced shapes on the soft wool by his foot as he worried his bottom lip between his teeth, as if he were hesitant to bring up whatever it was he had been about to say; likely the same thing that had seemed to be bothering him for the past day and a half. 

Aelin waited patiently for him to make his mind, whether or not he wanted to say whatever it was on his mind, slowly lowering the blade and rag in her hands to show him he had her full attention.

Finally, after another beat of silence, Rowan went on. “You know we can end this ruse anytime you want?” When she looked at him in confusion he explained, “Acting like we’re married. If you don’t want to pretend any longer, you can just say. If you want your own tent or- or, I.. There’s no… No need for us to share a tent any longer. If that’s what you want…” He did his best to keep his tone nonchalant, despite the adorable nervous rambling, but Aelin thought that he seemed almost afraid that she might agree. 

Despite herself, Aelin felt that foolish hope that she had been nursing for the past several days flare within her chest again, like air being breathed into a bed of embers. She quickly shoved it back down; she wasn’t entirely sure that she was ready to open herself up back to _that_ possibility. To the risk of being hurt like that again. Not yet.

Aelin willed a smirk to her lips, and asked teasingly, “Eager to be rid of me, Mr Whitethorn?”

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he grinned. “Yes,” he replied, his tone full of barely restrained laughter, “I’m tired of being kept awake by your snoring.”

Her eyes widened. “I do not snore!” At least she hoped she didn’t snore. Aelin felt her face warm at the thought. Lysandra and Elide had never told her-

Rowan’s lips curled into an apologetic smile. “You really do,” he admitted a bit reluctantly, looking as if he were afraid she might decide to stick him with one of those wicked looking knives in her bag. She must have looked as mortified as she felt, for Rowan took pity on her and amended gently, “It’s a very adorable snore.”

Aelin narrowed her eyes in a playful glare though her cheeks still burned. Unfolding her right leg, she planted her sock-clad foot firmly against his side and she shoved him over backwards onto his pallet. But as she made to pull her leg back, Rowan caught her by the ankle with a large hand, the warmth of it bleeding through the thick sock she wore, all the way down to her skin. 

All too late, Aelin realized her mistake and her eyes widened in horror as Rowan mouth curled up into a wicked smirk, one of his fingers trailing threateningly along the arch of her foot.

“Don’t. You. Dare,” she hissed shakily. Never mind that she was in no position to make such a demand. 

Rowan arched one silver brow in challenge. _Or what_? his eyes seemed to ask. But then, instead of tickling her into oblivion, he promptly burst into laughter. A clear deep sound that echoed down to her bones. And half a heartbeat later, Aelin found herself joining in, the two of them cackling until they were both grinning at each other.

Once they had both managed to collect themselves, Aelin resumed storing away her weapons for the night. But as she reached for one of her blades, she again found herself glancing up at Rowan. Though he looked much more at ease now, he still seemed a bit uneasy about something. 

Chewing at her own lip, as he had done a moment ago, she tried to think of what she could say to reassure him. “I feel… better,” she tried carefully, “when I’m with you." 

It was an understatement, really. When she was with Rowan, Sam and the past… they didn’t weigh so heavily on her. Her heart felt lighter, her soul unburdened by those dark memories. With him, for the first time in years, she finally felt _free_. But she didn’t know how to tell him all of that without it coming out all wrong. If she said too much, she might scare him away. But if she said too little…

At her words, Rowan’s eyes darted to her own, the dark green of them flickering with some emotion that vanished far too quickly for Aelin to read. But he nodded, having understood what she had meant. What she hadn’t said.

Aelin let out a silent sigh of relief and then gave him a mischievous smirk. "And I kind of like pretending to be your wife,” she said teasingly. “Mrs Aelin Whitethorn has a very nice ring to it, I think.”

Rowan ducked his head, that darling blush turning his face a brilliant shade of crimson, but a small grin tugged at his lips. He huffed a small laugh, as if he had enjoyed the joke. And Aelin smiled widely in triumph. She would never admit that her words were only half in jest. 

“Besides,” she went on, shrugging a shoulder dismissively, “you are very likely the most defenseless person out here. Other than Dorian Havilliard, and even he has a personal guard with him.” Ignoring the noise Rowan made in his throat, one that could only be described as an outraged squawk, she flashed him a sweet smile. “So, since you are my client, I will do my job to ensure that you remain alive throughout this venture, sir. If you die, I don’t get paid,” she added, scrunching her nose slightly. 

He made a face at her, rolling his eyes, but Aelin could tell that he was only half pretending to be offended. “I can defend myself just fine, you know,” he muttered. 

Aelin arched a brow. The incident on the riverboat would have her begging to differ, but instead she let her eyes rove over his surprisingly powerful, and very un-librarian-like, build, doing her best to ignore the familiar warmth that pooled in her belly in response. Swallowing at the sudden dryness in her throat, she countered, “Perhaps you can defend yourself in a one-on-one fight or against a pickpocket in town, but out here, it isn’t that simple. It’s dangerous, you saw that first hand.”

Rowan’s mouth twisted into a stubborn frown and he dropped his gaze to the few weapons still laid out before them on the blanket. His eyes drifting over an elegant little hatchet near his knee and, absently, his finger ran along the curved edge of the blade.

“Do you know how to use any weapons?” she asked seriously, realizing that it was something she had never asked him about before. 

He pulled his hand away from the hatchet and lifted his gaze back to her face, the dark green of them shining and full of a quiet sort of hope as he breathed, “You could teach me.” The words both a question and a statement.

Aelin blinked in surprise, her heart fluttering nervously at the confidence and conviction in his tone. The hopefulness and sincerity emanating from every line of his large body. Most men would never have admitted to such a detriment, or asked for help, especially not from a woman; their alphahole egos would never allow for such a thing. 

But Rowan… he had never been like most of the men she had met.

She had to swallow to loosen the tightness of her throat. Trying desperately to keep her voice even, she said, “There are plenty of other’s here in camp who could teach you if you asked. Fenrys’s brother or that Lorcan fellow would-" 

The words died on her lips as Rowan smiled at her. “Maybe,” he admitted, shrugging one broad shoulder. “But _you_ are the best. And you’re the only person I want to ask, that I trust.” 

Warmth spread through her at the words, as she realized that Rowan- He respected her. She had known, of course, but it just hadn’t really dawned on her until that moment just how fully, or how much it actually meant. More that he would ever know. The thought made her happier than she had ever thought possible. So happy, that she found herself nodding, blinking back the emotion burning in her eyes. 

Slowly, Aelin rose to her knees and inched closer to him, until she was on his bedroll kneeling beside him. Rowan watched her carefully, a faint flush coloring his cheeks the closer she came, as if he were nervous about what she might do.

She reached down and took one of his large hands within both of her own. Rowan’s eyes dropped to their now joined hands for a moment before quickly rising back to hers, and she thought she heard his breath hitch slightly in his chest.

Aelin smiled up at him, her eyes still prickling with the threat of tears. “I claim you, Rowan Whitethorn,” she said to him, her voice thick with emotion. “I claim you as my friend.”

The light in those stunning pine green eyes flickered at her words, and he lowered his gaze to their hands again. Slowly, carefully, he rotated his wrist until his warm palm was flush against hers, and his fingers curled around her own. 

A heartbeat after, when he finally lifted his eyes back to hers, a smile lit up his handsome features, one so lovely, so full of utter joy, that it wrecked and warmed her down to her very soul. “I claim you too, Aelin Galathynius.”

~*~

 _Aelin knew that she was dreaming. She knew, because when she opened her eyes, she found herself standing in the middle of a forest, surrounded on all sides by trees that were tall and gnarled and old and_ familiar _. Knew, because this was a forest that she knew like the back of her own hand, and the Oakwald was thousands of miles away from the Red Desert._

_From between the twisting oaks and pines there appeared a woman. Willowy and elegant, as ethereal and otherworldly as one of the fae folk from the stories she had read as a child._

_Eyes the color of citrines stared right through Aelin, even as the woman walked slowly towards her; as if Aelin were not even there at all. Her long hair like a sheet of molten red-gold poured streamed down her back, a few strands fluttering behind her. The expression on her breathtaking face was somber and resigned as she passed beneath the thin shafts of sunlight filtering between the tangled canopy high above._

_With a start, Aelin realized that this was the same woman from her other dream. The Queen from the faerie story._

_Grasped limply in her right hand was a sword, the long blade made of some strange, silver metal, the hilt a sunshine gold. And resting in the pommel was a shining ruby roughly the size of a chicken egg._

_The Queen took yet another set towards Aelin… and a red stain appeared in the front of her dress. Directly over her heart._

_Aelin took a stumbling step back as the color bloomed across her chest, spreading down the front of her pale gown, down her arms…_

_Blood. That was_ blood.

_The Queen paused, scarcely five steps from Aelin, her lovely face downcast as she glanced down at her self, at the blood spilling from the unseen wound. And tears began to fall down her cheeks._

_She lifted her left hand to her chest, brushing her fingers over the spot above her heart, and Aelin noticed a fine golden chain dangling from between her fingers, like that of a necklace. A faint blue light began to glow from between her fingers, emanating from whatever was on the other end of that necklace chain._

_Blood flowed in rivulets down her right wrist, a drop falling upon the grip of her sword, trickling down the length of the silver blade. And that giant ruby glimmered hungrily._

_Aelin opened her mouth, to cry, to scream, she wasn’t sure. But then the world around her shifted, changed. Like stepping through the surface of a mirror, the lush forest around her vanished, leaving her standing in an open plane._

_The very same spot upon which that battle from her other dream had been waged, upon which she and her friends now trekked._

_But it was not the sad-eyed King or his shining army who stood before her now. No. Where that Queen had stood there now walked another woman. But where the Queen had been warm and golden, this one was cold and dark, and a chill ran down Aelin’s spine._

_Long black hair and a flowing violet dress billowed behind her on a phantom breeze, though the sparse foliage growing from the sands was as still as death. She wielded a wicked looking knife in her bone-pale hand, the blade long and slightly curved, the metal dull like tarnished silver. An oily black stone was nestled within the pommel, and it seemed to suck the light right out of the air around it._

_With each step she took, the land beneath her bare feet turned gray. Not charred like it had been ravaged by fire, but sapped of its color, the very earth dying in her wake._

_Aelin watched as that wave of decay unfurled before her, spreading out like a wake until it surrounded her on all sides, mere inches from the toes of her boots. There was no where to go. No way to escape._

_Her eyes slowly rose again to that woman, only to find her standing a few feet away. Watching her, with eerie violet eyes that held a wicked sort of amusement, and a slow smile spread across her face. It reminded Aelin of a spider in a web, eyeing it’s newly caught prey._

_And then, just like with the Queen, blood began to spill down the front of her dress from a nonexistent wound. But even as that river of red spread down her body, down her arms and legs, the color began to drain from her. Like the world around them, her hair, her skin, her gown.. turned ashen. Though her unnerving eyes remained vivid._

_She was still smiling when her body began to crumble, withering away until she was nothing but dust on that phantom wind, leaving only that cruel knife behind her in the sand…_

~*~

Aelin awoke to the thundering of her heart, each thump echoing in her ears as panic gripped her bones, burning though her veins. Shoving herself up onto her elbows, her eyes darted about the interior of the tent, half expecting to find the black haired woman from her dream looming on one of the corners. That spider’s smile still curling at her lips, poised to leap upon her and plunge that dark blade deep into her chest. 

But all she found was the lantern, it’s flame flickering merrily a few feet away. Casting shadows about the room, over their saddlebags, her weapons bag nestled in the corner beside her boots, Rowan’s much larger ones next to them. 

A shaky breath rattled past her lips and Aelin lifted her gaze to the window-flap above her head, the one that Rowan had opened earlier. The thin slip of crescent moon still hung above, though at a slightly higher angle than it had been when they had first gone to bed, the stars twinkling around it in that expanse of blue-black. 

It was still the middle of the night, she realized. Only an hour or so had passed since they had fallen asleep. 

But then something moved to her left, mere inches away, and Aelin nearly jumped out of her skin. Heart rate spiking again, her hand darted under the pillow for the knife she kept hidden there. Her fingers found the warm, worn leather of the grip just as- 

Rowan. It was only Rowan. Groaning softly as he rolled over atop his pallet, turning around to peer up at her, the dim light casting sharp shadows across his handsome face. His sleep-heavy lids fluttered weakly as he tried to open his eyes. "What’s wrong?” he mumbled roughly. 

Aelin instantly felt calmer, his deep voice rumbling across the space between them to settle in her bones. But she still couldn’t find her own voice to answer him, to reassure him that it was nothing. For him to go back to sleep. Her frantically beating heart had stolen the words from her.

When a heartbeat passed, and then another, Rowan finally managed to crack his eyes open to gaze up at her in concern. “Aelin?” Carefully, he slid his left hand across their bedrolls, finding hers to gently brush his fingers over her knuckles. 

She hadn’t even realized how tightly she was gripping the blanket until her fingers unfurled at his touch. Rowan wrapped his much larger hand around her own, the touch soothing and warm, dulling the sharp edge her nerves were riding. It was enough that Aelin managed to coax a smile onto her lips, hoping to reassure him. She wasn’t entirely confident that it didn’t look more like a grimace. 

“I’m okay,” she breathed as evenly as she could. “It was only a dream." 

A dream. Only a dream. Gods. Rowan already knew just how much of a mess she was, she didn’t want him to know that now she was having nightmares too. Even though a voice inside her head, her heart, told her that he would never think any less of her for being so upset by these dreams, she still didn’t want him to worry. And she knew that he would, it was just in his nature. 

Rowan watched her carefully for a moment, his silver brows knitting together. As if he were reading those very thoughts on her face, in her eyes. But instead of pressing the matter, the hand holding hers merely shifted slightly, so that he could weave his fingers between hers. He gave her hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze as his thumb began to rub small, soothing circles on the back of her own. 

And Aelin felt something within her chest tighten, at the touch and the look in his eyes as he gazed at her. The message held within his own as clear as if he had spoken it aloud. _I’m here._

Rowan held her gaze for several long heartbeats, his thumb still massaging those little circles on the back of her hand, until his eyes began to grow heavy once more. He blinked slowly several times, as if he were fighting to stay awake. But then his eyes drifted closed and did not open again as sleep reclaimed him. 

Aelin listened to his breathing slowly even out, becoming a deep and steady rhythm. And as she watched him sleep, she felt a familiar urge go through her, to move closer to him. Found herself wondering what it might feel like to nestle up against his body. To fall asleep wrapped up within his arms. 

It was a silly thought; and a foolish one. But it chased away the lingering unease of that nightmare. So Aelin let herself be lost to that little flight of fancy, the speck of foolish hope that she had been trying so hard to ignore for the past several days, a daydream that she hadn’t let herself entertain to full fruition. 

But she didn’t move any closer to Rowan, no matter how badly she wanted too. And she did not go back to sleep.

~*~

By mid-morning, the reddish hue of the sand had given way to an unusual bleached tan shade, the off-white granules flecked with smooth, black pebbles. A sign, Aelin informed them all, that they were growing closer to the ruins of the lost city. Very close. 

They were making good time in their journey, and by mid-afternoon, they had reached the Oasis of Barg. A small paradise nestled within a low-lying dune, with a crystalline blue pool surrounded on all sides by a ring of thick, leafy vegetation, palm trees and shrubs and even a few strange desert blooms of pink and white and yellow. 

It was another sign they were close to their destination, just a little over a half a day’s ride, in fact. But despite how close they now were, the entire party decided to make camp there for the night. To refill their dwindling water supply and seize the only opportunity they would have for some time to freshen up. 

Aelin decided that a quick dip in that blessedly cool water was just the thing she needed to clear her head. So once the camp had been set up, all canteens and water barrels refilled and supper was started, she found a decent sized spare pot and made her way down to the pool with Lysandra and Elide to wash up. 

Once they were finished, they returned to their little ring of tents to wait while the men in camp all took their own turns, her cousin, Fenrys and Rowan among them. She pinned up a few pieces of clothing she had also taken the time to wash out so the sun could hopefully dry them before nightfall set in, and then made her way over to sit by the fire. 

Perched atop a throw cushion, Aelin worked to dry her long hair, brushing out the tangles with her fingers and wringing out the last bits of water. She watched those last drips fall from the ends of the golden strands and sink into the sand by the toe of her boot, trying not to let her thoughts drift to a certain green-eyed young man man now down by the water, when Elide’s voice caught her attention. 

Aelin’s eyes flicked over to where the small young woman now stood, currently speaking with that hulking brute from the other party. Lorcan Salvaterre. The black-haired girl eyed him with an interest that had Aelin’s brows furrowing as Lorcan turned and strolled off in the direction of the water, removing his shirt to reveal a broad muscled back as he disappeared through the scrub.

Elide made her way towards them then, a soft smile tugging at her red lips as she wandered over to sit down beside Lysandra, those dark eyes as bright as a night sky suddenly lit up by a million stars. 

Aelin arched a brow in amusement as she watched her friend. In as long as she had known her, Elide had never show even an inkling of interest in anyone before. And while she was happy for oldest friend… It really _had_ to be _Lorcan_ that caught her interests? 

With a slight smirk tugging at her lips, Aelin asked teasingly, "Fraternizing with the enemy, Elide?" 

Those dark eyes snapped up to her own then, her pale cheeks tinting with just a hint of color. Elide had always been good at concealing her emotions, of hiding behind a calm mask and showing people what they wanted to see, so that faint blush, and the utter happiness in her eyes nearly floored Aelin. 

But beneath that quiet joy, Aelin saw a conspiratorial gleam of mischief. "Think of it more as, recruiting him to our side,” Elide said simply, giving a nonchalant shrug of one narrow shoulder. Even as a small, wicked smile tugged at her mouth. 

Lysandra ducked her head to hide the fiendish grin that curled at her lips, but Aelin had no such qualms as she tilted her head back and _laughed_. A small, petty part of her hoped that Salvaterre might hear that laughter and think the worst. But when she heard someone walking through the shrubs back towards the camp, she felt a twinge of guilt for the errant thought on behalf of her friend. 

But when she saw who stepped out from between those thick palm fronds, her laughter died on her lips as her mouth went a bit dry. 

Rowan. His shoulder-length hair was completely down for once, the ends dripping onto the shoulders of his white shirt. His fully unbuttoned white shirt, the chiseled expanse of his abdomen on full display. Aelin swallowed hard as her eyes drank in the way the sun kissed his tanned skin, the dips and ripples of his muscled abdomen and chest sharply defined by shadows. The way it made his silver hair shine like ropes of moonlight in the day time.

Aelin felt her face begin to heat as she watched him make his way back towards their circle of tents. Especially as he glanced up and caught her stare, one of those gentle smiles tugging at his lips. A crooked boyish grin that caused her heart to skip. Somehow, she managed to gather her thoughts enough to smile back.

Tearing her eyes away from his body to look over at her the two women sitting across from her, she found both of them smirking at her knowingly, dark brows high in near identical expressions of smugness. Elide’s eyes seemed to dare her to say anything else about her budding relationship with Lorcan. 

“Shut up,” Aelin muttered, lowering her gaze back to her hands as she grasped her still wet hair and began to twist it into a simple braid. 

Lysandra snorted daintily, lifting a canteen to her lips to take a sip of water. “We never said a thing,” she crooned innocently, her laughing, cat-like green eyes full of delight at the turn of events, even as Aelin glowered at the both of them.

The rest of the afternoon went much the same, with her having to ignore the sly looks from their friends as she and Rowan sat beside each other. Whenever they caught her staring at him. 

That evening, as she had promised, Aelin began teaching Rowan how to wield weapons. Starting with blades, she armed him with two of her fighting knives and then spent the next few hours before dinner showing him how to properly hold them. How to guard and block simple assaults, how to watch his opponent’s body language for clues to help him guess their next move, signs to watch for so he could adequately defend himself. 

Aelin was immensely pleased with his progress. The fighting came easy to him, almost like a second nature. And Rowan… Rowan looked so happy with everything that she taught him, so pleased with himself and his progress, and so at ease and carefree… It left her feeling slightly breathless. 

And that night, Aelin collapsed atop her bedroll and fell asleep with the memory of that beautiful smile, that joy, filling her head, her heart. And no nightmares or strange dreams plagued her.

**Author's Note:**

> Snippets and chapters also posted on tumblr @westofmoon. Thank you for reading!
> 
> I do not consent to this work being hosted on any unofficial apps or to any other websites.


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